


The Art of Love

by nerdsarehot75



Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: Art Teacher AU, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-07-11 02:00:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 33,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15962291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdsarehot75/pseuds/nerdsarehot75
Summary: What if Carol never went to prison? What if she grew up to be a high school art teacher? What if she had a young teacher's assistant? Sounds like love in the making.





	1. Chapter 1

There was a young woman standing in her art room. Carol looked over her shoulder, then back into the room. The woman was looking over some of the artwork left to dry by the window. Her head was tilted to the side, her hair tumbling down her back, catching the early morning light. Carol couldn’t see her face but she could imagine the way it was considering the pieces, serious and intent. Her fingers itched for a pencil.

“Can I help you?” she asked instead.

You started, turning towards Carol. You smiled brightly when you saw her standing in the doorway and took a step forward, already extending your hand.

“Hi, I’m Zoe Beckett. You must be Carol Denning. I’ve been assigned to work with you. I’m your teacher’s assistant,” you said, stopping in front of her, hand still extended.

She curled her upper lip at you, her gaze running over you. She scrutinised you, taking in your large eyes, your small nose, your full lips. She tried to ignore the low cut of your dress and the shapely legs that strode towards her. 

You felt butterflies in your stomach. You licked your lips, trying to ignore the way her eyes followed your tongue. Her eyes blazed, as cold as ice, as blue as the ocean. You wanted to paint her face, all colours and lines. Her eyes, behind those stupidly large 80s glasses, narrowed.

“I didn’t ask for a teacher’s assistant,” she snapped and you felt your smile drop.

“I just went where they told me,” you said, shrugging, not willing to let this woman ruin this for you.

Carol turned on her heels and strode out of the room. You followed in her wake, not sure what else to do. She walked through the halls, ignoring the few kids there who had arrived early, making her way towards the office you had only just left. 

“Where the fuck is Derek?” Carol asked, the moment she’d slammed the door open. 

“His office,” the poor secretary said.

Carol sneered at her and walked past. You gave her a commiserating smile but continued following Carol. You ran into her back, not having realised she’s stopped in front of Derek’s desk. You took a step back, ignoring her withering glare, and stepped around her to stand beside her.

“Why the fuck was I not informed you’d be lumping this on me?” Carol asked, gesturing to you.

You wrinkled her nose at her but chose to stay silent. Her eyes flashed and you were gad you weren’t in Derek’s chair. 

“We sent you a memo yesterday,” Derek said, “it’s not my problem if you didn’t read it.”

He turned back to the paperwork on his desk and you sighed, hoping this was the end of it. Carol looked at you, snarling, then turned to leave. You followed behind her, feeling more and more like a lost puppy with her. You smiled at the secretary when you went past again. She rolled her eyes at you but she smiled softly. You winked.

Carol stopped in her art room, turning to look at you, her arms crossed. You raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to speak.

“Don’t get in my way, don’t question my instructions, don’t be a fucking idiot,” she barked at you.

“Whatever,” you said.

She glared at you for a moment, before turning to sit at her desk. You ignored the sight of her long legs and the way the sunlight played over her hair. You took a deep breath in, tearing your eyes away from her before she could notice. You turned back to continue perusing the students’ work.

Carol continued to survey you, leaning back in her chair, her arms laying on the arm rests. Her eyes trailed over your body, looking at the swell of your hips, the curve of your back, the bounce of your breasts when you took a step. 

She tilted her head, considering you. You brushed some hair behind your ear, leaning forward to take a closer look at a still life. You bit your lip, leaning back, your head tilting. Carol growled, low in her throat, too quiet for you to hear. She ignored the way her heart thudded against her chest.

“Hey, Miss Denning,” a kid said, entering the room, bag thumping against his back.

Carol ignored him, turning her head to look at the work she should have been marking, instead of staring at her new teaching assistant. She glanced up, watching the kid staring at you.

“Hey,” you said to the kid.

“Hi,” he said, his skin flushing.

You smiled at him. Your eyes flickered up, meeting Carol’s steely gaze. She sneered and the smile dropped from your face. You turned away from the kid, going back to looking at the artwork.

The room slowly filled, kids coming in in twos or threes, their chatter filling the air. Carol did her best to ignore them. She also did her best to ignore you, but she found her eyes flickering to you. She watched you chat with some of the students, your smile lighting up the room in a way the sunlight failed to. Why were you so fucking chipper? 

The bell rang, the last few stragglers rushing into the room, their stools scraping in the silence that had settled over the room. Carol stood from her desk, her eyes roving over the students. Most of them were watching her, although a few of them were shooting glances over their shoulder at you standing at the back of the room. That first kid was straight up ignoring her in favour of watching you. 

“As I’m sure you’ve noticed, we have a new face,” Carol said. The rest of the heads turned to look at you and you felt a slight blush on your cheeks.

“This is Miss Beckett,” Carol said, “She’ll be with us for the foreseeable future.”

She allowed the students a few moments to turn back to face her, ignoring the way the rosy tint on your cheeks made her want to pull out a canvas and capture it for the rest of eternity.

“Today we’ll be continuing with your projects,” she said, “get to it.”

She watched the students get up, shuffle around the room to grab their work from storage. Carol sat back at her desk, pulling the pile of work towards her, red pen in her fingers. You walked between the students, looking over their work, not lingering long enough to make them nervous. That one kid knocked his pencils off the desk as you walked past, ducking underneath the table to collect them, his face bright red. 

You chuckled quietly, looking up to make sure Carol wasn’t about to be a bitch about it. Her pen was between her teeth and your stomach clenched. Her eyes met yours, her upper lip curling and you turned to look out the window, not needing this on your first day. This was bullshit.


	2. Chapter 2

That fucking kid was just entering the art room the next morning when Carol arrived. Davidson, or Daniels, or something like that. She didn’t have much reason to remember him. Not overly talented, quiet, and tended to give her no trouble. He was the kind of kid that faded into the background. 

You were sitting inside, pencil scratching over paper, hunched over a notebook. You looked up at the two of them as they entered and Carol was once again aware of how easily you smiled. Your eyes crinkled up at the corner and she was struck for a moment, not used to anyone smiling quiet like that at her. 

“Hey Miss, Beckett,” that fucking kid, Davidson or Daniels, or something, said, walking over to you, his face flushed. Carol shot the two of you a sneer and walked over to her desk, dropping her bag underneath it.

“Hey dude,” you said, smiling a little brighter at the kid. 

He stumbled over his feet as he walked over to you and you had to suppress a laugh. He was a sweet kid.

“Whatcha doing?” he asked, leaning against the desk beside you. Carol snorted and he flushed again. You ignored her, rolling your eyes at her attitude. Just because she came in, the morning sun making her hair look like a fucking halo, and her long legs on full display in a pair of skin tight jeans, didn’t to mean she had the right to be such a fucking bitch.

“Ah, it’s nothing,” you said.

Carol looked up, watching as you closed the book anyway before the kid could catch a glimpse of what you’d been working on. If she was being honest, she was curious too but she wasn’t about to ask you about it. 

You looked at her then, bottom lip between your teeth, and she felt a familiar heat pool in her stomach. She was struck by the sudden image of her teeth biting down on that plump lip, tugging it, drawing a whimper from you. She curled her upper lip at you and turned away.

You looked back at the kid, still trying to wrack your brain for his name. It wasn’t coming to you. You couldn’t even be sure you knew it. 

“You’re here early,” you said, nudging the stool next to you with your foot. He clutched it, sitting on it, shooting you a huge grin.

“Early drop off,” he said, but his face was blushing bright red and you had to wonder if there was something more. 

“You don’t have to study or something?” you asked, “I used to spend every free minute I had in the library.”

“Nah, it’s cool,” he said.

You nodded at him, not sure what else to say. He was watching you, drinking you in in a way that reminded you of dark bars and nightclubs. Carol coughed and you looked up at her, hoping for some kind of rescue. 

She wasn’t even looking at you, her eyes trained on some marking she was doing. You let your eyes wander over the room, trying to find something to comment on. When you looked at him again he was still watching you, a smile fixed on his face.

“Beckett,” Carol said into the silence. 

You looked over at her. She was tired of watching you act like a deer in headlights. You obviously had no idea what you were doing and while that fucking kid stared at you his horny teenage thoughts were practically on loudspeaker. She couldn’t concentrate with all those hormones flying around the room.

“Check to see if we have enough blue paint left,” she said.

You got up, your stool scraping painfully against the floor. You shot her a small smile and she had to force herself not to avert her gaze. There was something almost painful about looking at you smile, an ache in her chest long since forgotten blazing up without warning. She sneered at you as you passed, then got up to follow you. 

You entered the cool dark interior of the storeroom, clicking on the light. It buzzed above you and you let out a sigh. It wasn’t her fucking job to save you and yet she had. That had to be a good sign, right? You nodded to yourself. You stretched up on your toes, reaching for the blue paint. 

Carol stood in the doorway, assuming this would be a good time to tell you how to deal with kids with crushes. She’d suffered through enough to know. Instead, she was caught staring at you, stretched up on your toes, your dress lifting higher than was appropriate. She licked her lips at the creamy skin on display. She tilted her head, considering the strength in the muscles of your thighs, and the shape of your calves. She wanted them wrapped around her. 

You dropped back down onto your heels, weighing the bottle in your hands. It felt full enough. You reached up to put it back on the shelf, not quite able to get it high enough. A pair of arms appeared either side of you, grabbing the paint bottle form your hands and placing it back on the shelf. 

You dropped back to your feet and turned around. Carol was there, her arms still either side of you, trapping you. You looked up at her, meeting her eyes, suddenly realising how tall she was. You hadn’t been this close to her. You could see a few freckles over her face. Your eyes dropped to her lips, thin and pink, slightly chapped. You stopped for a moment, wondering what they’d feel like against your own. Your breathing stopped.

“When a kid has a crush on you, don’t fucking acknowledge it, don’t encourage them, just ignore them,” she said, her voice harsh.

“Thanks,” you said, not sure if it was for the advice or for the paint. 

“Keep that kid at arms length or he’s going to become insufferable,” she hissed, “and I don’t tolerate insufferable.”

“Sure, Carol” you said, “whatever you say.”

You rolled your eyes. She sneered and moved her face closer to yours. Her eyes were full of so many different shades of blue. You weren’t sure there would be enough time in all of eternity to capture it. But you wanted to try. 

“Listen here, Beckett, this is my fucking classroom, and my word is law. Just fucking do what I say and I’ll ignore you,” she said.

“What if I don’t want you to ignore me?” you asked without thinking.

She curled her upper lip at you and drew back. For the first time since she cornered you, you were able to breath properly. She paused, about to walk out of the door.

“I will make your life a living hell,” she said, and walked out.

She was definitely not lingering on the thought of your perfume, or on the way you looked at her with such an unguarded expression. She absolutely was not thinking about the way your gaze had lingered on her lips, your tongue unconsciously licking your own. She was not going to dwell on what she’d have that tongue do. 

You exited the storeroom on shaky legs, pleased to see Carol was already at her desk, papers in hand, pen between lips. You took a deep breath and walked over to the desk you’d been sitting at before. The kid perked up, watching you walk over. You picked up your journal, glad to see some other students beginning to filter in. 

You hurried to the back of the room, leaning your back on the wall, waiting for the class to start. It was going to be a long day.


	3. Chapter 3

Wednesday lunch time was weird. That was probably a huge fucking understatement but it was the only way you knew how to describe it. 

You’d noticed Carol always stayed in her classroom for lunch. You’d taken to eating with Derek’s secretary, Anita, swapping storied with her about Carol. Not that you had many after two days, but you enjoyed hearing about things she’d done. She’d been teaching so long some of them were legends, no one really sure if they were true or not. 

But on this day you decided to stay behind, to see what it was Carol did during this lunch hour when she was all alone in the art room. So when the bell rang and all the students made their way out the door, you took a seat at the bench, your left overs from the night before in hand.

She’d raised her eyebrows at you but hadn’t said a word, settling into her chair more comfortably. You smiled at her and began eating, ignoring the way she was watching you. You pulled your phone out, scrolling through Facebook, sending a quick text to Anita to tell her what you were doing. She wished you luck.

You glanced up at Carol, finding her with a huge bulge in her cheeks. You furrowed your brow. What the actual fuck? You had no idea what that meant. She didn’t appear to be chewing, but was sucking on whatever it was. Was she eating fucking sweets?

You shook your head, wondering what was up with this woman. Who ate sweets for lunch? Other than young children and college students of course. And why was there something so sexy about it?

Maybe it was the thought of her sucking on something else.

You bit your lip and looked away, pulling your journal from your bag, digging to the bottom to find your pencil. 

Carol was allowing her eyes to rove over you in a way she never had until now. The last two and a half days she had done her best to ignore you, to put you from her mind. She disliked having you there, not just because she hadn’t been told. It was you. She hated you being there because you were so distracting.

While you sketched in your notebook she allowed her gaze to rest on you, wondering if you could feel her eyes on you. Her eyes traced the curves of your face, the shadows of your lashes on your cheeks, the way you worried your lip between your teeth. 

You’d tucked your hair behind your ear, your fingers lingering on the curve of your jaw. Carol wished it were her fingers lingering on your skin. You scratched your nose with the end of your pencil, your eyes narrowing as you considered your work.

A cloud shifted over the sun, light falling over your face. You squinted, momentarily blinded. Carol looked at the way the light changed your eyes. They went from brown to all the colours of fall. They almost glowed, the light within shining through in ways Carol was unaware was possible. Your eyes were all shades of gold. If she could have, Carol would have painted a picture to capture them and hung it on her wall above her bed. She wanted to be able to see them at all times. 

You looked up, quickly, then back down. Carol was staring at you, although not with as much anger as you were used to. You looked back down at your picture, the beginnings of a face emerging. You weren’t overly happy with it, but given the subject matter, you weren’t sure you would ever make it perfect. You wanted it to be perfect.

You let your gaze wander up again, ignoring the way the sun burnt your eyes. Carol was still watching you, her face surprisingly soft. When she noticed you looking at her, her gaze hardened and her jaw clenched.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she snapped.

“Eating lunch,” you said, not sure what else she expected. 

You nudged your box of leftovers, the fork barley managing to stay balanced on the top. She narrowed her eyes at you, her upper lip curling. You raised your eyebrow at her, waiting for some kind of answer.

She rose from her chair. In your mind it was in slow-mo, but in reality it was probably normal. She stalked towards you, each step so sure, so predatory, and you shivered. She lent over the table, hands flat against the surface. She brought her face closer to you, sneering at you.

“Why the fuck are you in here?” she hissed.

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?” you asked, your heart thudding in your chest. You were worried she could hear it.

“I like my fucking alone time,” she said. 

You looked up at her, feeling her breath ghost over your face. You shuddered, thoughts flying from your head when your gaze met her’s. You felt breathless, the pounding in your ears the only thing you could hear. She smiled at you, not softly or kindly, but like a predator who had cornered her prey. You pressed your thighs together. 

She withdrew from the table, sauntering back to her desk. You watched her, your gaze resting on her ass. No one should look that good in a pair of skinny jeans. You bit your lip and looked away. You were unwilling to leave, but you weren’t sure you would be able to look her in the eye again. 

You looked down at your notebook and Carol felt a thrill of excitement when she noticed you couldn’t look at her. Her eyes drifted down to note the bright red of your lips. You were scrutinising your own work, your brow furrowing, fingers twirling your pencil. What she wouldn’t give to have those fingers on her body. 

Your eyes flickered up then down again. She was staring at you, impenetrable from behind those large glasses. You wanted to reach out and take them from her face, if only to be able to see her without obstruction. You licked your lips, throat suddenly dry. 

You shut your journal with a snap and stood up, chair scarping uncomfortably loud in the silence. You picked up your half eaten lunch and strode out, feeling like a fucking coward. You couldn’t stand to be there alone anymore. You needed a moment. And water. You were so fucking thirsty.

You found Anita in the staff room, standing by the coffee maker. You hurried over to her, trying to remove the blush from your cheeks. You didn’t need her asking you any leading questions. This was not something you wanted to admit to.

“Hey,” she said, noticing you beside her.

“Hi,” you said, taking the cup of coffee from her hand, taking a long gulp from it.

“Long day?” she asked with a smile.

“You have no idea,” you said, handing the mug back. 

She laughed, shaking her head, but didn’t ask you any question. You were thankful for that. That was one of the reasons you liked Anita so much, she didn’t try and dig with you. You were so used to people trying to ask too many personal questions too quickly.

You finished your food, not needing to be hungry for the afternoon if you had to deal with Carol’s bullshit. You had no idea what was going on with the two of you. She was so aggressive towards you, and so cold. So why were acting like a teenager around her, all hormones and angst? It was bullshit.

The bell rang for afternoon classes and you had to consider if this job was really worth it. Anita got up, giving you a wink and walked off. You sighed, closing up your tupperware, and stood, only just remembering to grab your journal before you left. 

You were ready for this day to be over.


	4. Chapter 4

This was getting too much. This morning you had woken up, your breathing heavy, a throbbing between your legs. An image of cold blue eyes bending you over a desk was burned into the back of your eyelids and you wanted to scream. 

You’d rocked up to work later than you had all week, Carol already in the room. So was that other kid from the first class. You still couldn’t think of his name. He smiled brightly at you and you saluted him, not meeting his gaze. You looked over at Carol but she was writing something. You flitted your eyes away.

You dropped your stuff at the back of the room and walked over to the window. You looked out, watching a few kids go past. You didn’t want to turn around to look back at the room. You could feel a pair of eyes on you, sure it was the kid, wanting it to be Carol. 

You looked up at the sky, the clouds going by in the watery light of the early morning. Your mind drifted back to the dream of the night before, the way this room had looked. It had been so dimly lit, the sky outside dark. You shifted on your feet.

You turned away from the window, trying to shake the thoughts from your head. You watched Carol tap her lip with her finger and you turned away, blushing. Your subconscious had made those fingers so much fun. You wondered if they were in real life. 

“Hey, Miss Beckett?” the kid said.

You jumped, forgetting he’d been there. He was looking at you, eyes wide and earnest. You glanced over at Carol then away again. She hadn’t even looked up.

“What’s up?” you asked, taking a step towards the desk.

“What kind of things do you draw?” he asked.

Carol listened in, pretending as if she wasn’t. She kept her eyes focused on the paper in front of her, pen lightly held in her hand. She added some shading to the picture in front of her. 

“Oh, just this and that,” you said. 

Carol scrunched her nose at that. She wanted some details, something to grasp to. There was so little she knew about you, although, given how much she’d worked at not knowing anything about you, she only had herself to blame. 

“Can I see?” the kid asked. Davis! That was his fucking name. 

Silence filled the room. Carol looked up, watching the way you shuffled your feet, not quite looking at the kid. You had crossed you arms over your chest, pushing your breasts up. The kid was looking at them and if Carol hadn’t been distracted by them too, she would have been disgusted. 

“Maybe some other time,” you said, turning away from him.

Carol snapped her eyes down, not wanting to be caught staring at you. She heard your heels clack against the floor and she glanced up. You were walking towards her, each step causing your breasts to bounce. Carol licked her lips and looked back down at her drawing. She pulled some papers over it, keeping her art hidden.

You rested your hip against her desk, looking at Carol properly for the first time since arriving that morning. She raised her brows at you, as if expecting you to say something. You were aware that would probably be the normal thing to do in this situation. But you had nothing. You’d wanted to get away from the kid. You hadn’t thought beyond that point.

Carol flicked her eyes over to Davis. He was staring longingly at you, barley even noticing Carol was there. She rolled her eyes, looking up at you again.

“C’mon,” she said, standing from the desk, “I need your help.”

You trailed after her, watching the sway of her hips. Her flannel was a bright blue, and looked so soft you had to fight against reaching out to touch it. You could imagine what it would feel like against your skin. You could imagine it discarded on your bedroom floor.

She led you through the hallways, pulling her keys from her pocket. She stopped in front of a door you previously hadn’t taken notice of before. It looked like an ordinary cupboard. She unlocked the door, pushing it open, flicking the light on. You followed her in.

You were surrounded by a range of sculptures, all obviously handcrafted by the students. You looked around, some obvious better than others. You let your eyes rove over them, your tongue tapping against your top lip. 

Carol watched you, her own tongue coming out to lick her lips. You took a step forward and she took one back, not wanting to be so close to you. She should have thought through bringing you to such an enclosed space. After talking to you in the storage cupboard on Tuesday she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about taking you against those shelves, her hands pushing up your skirt, her fingers in your cunt. She kept imagining what your face would look like as you came undone.

“What did you need help with?” you asked, breaking into her thoughts.

She looked up at you, her eyes lingering on your lips. You felt yourself shiver. 

“I figured it was time to talk,” she said.

“Why start now?” you quipped, then bit your lip, regretting it.

“You think this is a fucking game?” she hissed, taking a step towards you. You stepped back, your eyes falling to your feet. Your heart was thumping hard and you couldn’t figure out why Carol had brought you here. You could not work out this woman. 

Carol growled, taking another step towards you. She grinned when your back hit the door, your eyes slowly dragging up to meet her’s. She tilted her head, considering you. Your mouth was open, your eyes wide, and she wanted to fuck you against the door. She was itching for it.

All you wanted was her lips on yours, her hands on your skin. You felt too hot, burning up as she stood so close to you. Her eyes were roving over your face, a smirk on her lips, and all you could hear was your blood pounding in your ears. 

“What are you suggesting?” she asked, her voice low, thrumming through your body.

“Oh my god, nothing,” you snapped, “why did you bring me in here?” 

She sneered at you and you considered how embarrassed you’d be if you just turned tail and ran out of the room. You considered how embarrassed you’d be if you kissed her. You shook your head.

‘To talk,” she said, her eyes narrowing, “or are you deaf?”

“Talk about what?” you asked, “what can we possibly have to talk about?”

She stayed silent, considering you. You felt your cheeks flush and you dropped your gaze to the floor again. You heard her sigh and flicked your eyes back to her. She rolled her eyes but stepped back.

“What is this place?” you asked.

“Storage for anything that has to go in the kiln,” she said.

“We have a kiln?” you asked. Surely you hadn’t missed that in the art room.

“It’s down the hall. Apparently technology wanted to use it too, and they got more funding so it’s technically theirs,” she said, her upper lip curling, “fucking Derek wouldn’t listen to reason.”

“God, he definitely struck me as the kind of dick who doesn’t believe in art,” you sighed, “fuck him.”

She was smiling at you, surprised by the sound of swearing falling from your lips. She hadn’t ever taken much interest in other people cursing, but given how innocent you looked, it struck something deep inside her. She felt her cunt throb.

“Class is starting soon,” Carol said.

“I still don’t really know what we’re doing here,” you said. 

She sighed, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. You bit your lip and tried not to bring any more fire down upon you.

“You know what, never mind,” you said and turned to twist the doorknob open.

“I was trying to be nice,” she said, sounding as if someone was torturing the confession out of her. 

“Nice?” you asked, turning back to her.

“Davis was making you uncomfortable, I got you away from him,” she said, looking at you as if you were an idiot. 

“Oh,” you said, suddenly realising what was going on, “thank you.”

“Shut up,” she said, her eyes hardening.

You bit your lip and nodded, turning around to open the door. The hallway was busier than when you’d entered, kids swarming around you. You waited while Carol locked the door once again, a few kids looking your way. Some skirted around you, a touch of fear in their eyes when the glanced at Carol. You could understand why.

She led you back to the art room, and you tried not to feel like a puppy following its’ master back home. More kids were in there, ready for first period. Davis looked disappointed when you entered, moving to stand at the back, while Carol took her place at the front of the room. She settled into her chair, and for the first time you noticed she sat with her legs thrust apart. Part of you wanted to kneel between them, part of you wanted to never look at her again. 

The weekend could not come soon enough. You needed a break from whatever this was. It was fucking you up.


	5. Chapter 5

The whole thing was getting ridiculous. No matter what you did, Carol was refusing to talk to you in a one on one conversation. In fact, it felt as if she was pointedly ignoring you, leaving you to your own devices. How were you meant to work under these conditions? It was impossible. 

You’d taken to walking amongst the students, glancing over their work, waiting for questions. Before raising their hands the students always glanced at Carol, as if expecting her to snap at them, but if you couldn’t answer their question Carol always knew the answer, surprisingly patient with her students. Each time you smiled, not expecting her to have a soft side. She’d sometimes catch you smiling, glaring at you until the smile slipped from your face.

Your favourite part of any class had become the moments when Carol was at the front, actually teaching. In those moments you were able to study her, try and figure out what made her tick, if that were even possible. You weren’t sure it was. She seemed such an enigma. From her 80s glasses, to her insanely teased hair, to the soft flannels she seemed to have in every colour of the rainbow. You did not understand her at all.

And then there were these moments when he bell would ring and the students would begin to leave when she’d look at you with that piercing gaze of hers, your skin would flush, and you’d have to turn away to get your heart back under control. You needed her to stop doing this to you, to stop having this effect on you.

All this had added up to you sitting in your local bar, nursing a beer while your friend, Maddy, tried to distract you with stories about the horrible customers in the shop she managed. You were only half listening, your eyes scanning the crowd. 

“You know what your problem is?” Maddy asked.

“No, but I get the feeling you’re about to all me,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“You need to get laid,” she said, “all these feeling will go away once you get some.”

You laughed, tipping your bottle at her.

“You may be right,” you said, “it’s been too long.”

“Wasn’t the last one that girl with the flower crown and the misspelled tattoo?” she asked, shaking her head at the memory.

“Yeah, great with her tongue as long as she wasn’t talking,” you said, “she was planning on moving so South America because she liked alpacas.”

“Tragic,” Maddy said.

You laughed together. The door swung open, letting in a large group of people, immediately making their way to the bar. A lone figure trailed behind them. Your eyes flickered over her and you sighed, resting your head on your arms.

“No fucking way,” you muttered, “not tonight.”

Maddy looked over at the woman sitting at the end of the bar.

“Is that her?” she asked, “is that really the infamous Carol?” 

For her part, Carol had noticed you the moment she’d walked in. You were at a table with a pretty young woman, your long legs on display in a short dress, and a laugh easily coming from your mouth. She’d wanted to strangle you. She’d wanted to kiss you. 

This was her bar, the place she frequented almost every Friday night, and you had the audacity to show up, flaunting yourself for all the world to see while she was trying to drown you from her thoughts. Who the fuck did you think you were? And who the fuck was that with you? 

Carol wasn’t jealous. She didn’t do jealousy. No one was worth getting that worked up over, certainly not you. She didn’t care you were there with another woman, probably smiling and laughing, not noticing her there at all. She made sure to put her back to you, deciding not to give you a second glance. 

Maddy was scrutinising her, her eyes narrowed as she watched her order a drink. You looked over your shoulder at her, your heart thumping.

“Why did you bring me to this bar?” you asked her.

“Dave took me here, it was cheap,” she said, craning her neck to get a better look at Carol.

“Can you fucking stop?” you asked, “you’re not exactly being subtle.”

She sat back in her seat, taking a long pull from her beer. You rolled your eyes and tried not to shoot another glance over your shoulder. If you just ignored her it would be like she wasn’t even there. You could pick up a pretty young thing, fuck her until whatever this was disappeared, and then continue on with the prickly art teacher.

“Is that your type now?” Maddy asked, raising an eyebrow at you, “middle aged hardass?” 

“Fuck off,” you said and drained your beer.

You slammed the bottle back on the table and stood up.

“Next round?” you asked her. She nodded, draining her own bottle.

You strode up to the bar, huffing when you saw the only empty space was uncomfortably close to Carol. You did your best to ignore her, flicking your hair over your shoulder to create a curtain between the two of you. You smiled at the bartender, getting his attention. You ordered two of the same, leaning against the bar, waiting for them.

“Fucking dyke,” the man next to you spat.

You turned to look at him, wondering if he was talking to you. It wouldn’t be the first time. His body was turned towards the woman at the end of the bar, the woman you were trying not to look at. You noticed the way her eyes were flashing behind her glasses and you shivered. The barman put your bottles down in front of you. You thanked him, handing over the money.

“Go back to your fucking dyke bar,” the man said. The barman raised his eyebrow at you but turned away to help some people at the other end of the bar. 

“Hey,” you said, getting the asshole’s attention.

He turned to you and you suddenly realised what a bad idea that had been. He towered over you, his body mass at least twice yours. You looked over his shoulder at Carol who was sneering at you and you were overcome with the knowledge this was not going to end well. 

“Is this your girlfriend?” he asked Carol, condescension dripping from every syllable.

“This is an idiot,” she said, levelling her glare at you.

She wanted to strangle you. You shouldn’t be getting involved with this asshole. She’d always dealt with these things, attracting these kind of dicks. But you were so small, and so nice. You should know better than get involved. She wanted you to give up, just walk back over to your companion, and not return. 

“You can’t speak to her that way,” you interjected before either could say anything else.

“Beckett, take a hint and fuck off,” she said, turning away from you.

“He can’t fucking get away with that kind of language,” you said, the anger that had been sitting at the bottom of your stomach all week finally beginning to rear it’s ugly head, “this is the fucking 21st century.”

“Beckett, listen to me,” she said, “turn around and walk away like a good girl. No one wants you here.”

“No, let her stay,” the man said, reaching out to grasp your arm. You tried to flinch back but his hold was too strong for you to break, “she might enjoy the company of a real man.”

Without thinking about it you drew your free arm back, formed a fist, and punched him in the nose. He reeled back from you, letting you go, blood beginning to drip from his nose. Carol was looking at you, her eyebrows raised. You stepped back, grabbing her by the arm and steering her back towards your table, the man bellowing after you. 

“You really are a fucking idiot,” she said.

You shrugged and sat on your stool again. Carol stood beside your table, eyeing up Maddy who was looking back at her, interest in her face.

“Was he being threatening?” Maddy asked, jerking her chin at the guy who was eyeing your table, his body visibly shaking with rage.

“And homophobic,” you said.

“Should we get out of here?” she asked.

“Probably a good idea,” you said and stood again. 

Maddy stood with you, shooting another glance at Carol. You sighed and turned to her, already knowing Monday was going to be hell. There’s no way she’d let you live any of this down.

“If you have any survival instinct, you’d get out of here too,” you said to her, “or that guy may come back for another round.”

You turned on your heels and stomped out, Maddy by your side. She watched you walk out, an odd combination of bemusement and anger boiling in her stomach. Part of her wanted to follow you, to shout at you for being such a fucking idiot. Another part of her wanted to hide away and replay the moment you’d punched that asshole in face on repeat for the next two days. She hadn’t realised how attractive physical violence could be. Her heart was thumping wildly.

She glanced over her shoulder at the asshole at the bar and decided you were probably right. She exited the bar, ignoring the new rowdy group of people just inside the door, and set off down the block. If she turned back she could see you, walking with your friend, laughing about something. She clenched her jaw and turned back around. She was not jealous. 

“You okay?” Maddy asked once you’d slowed down about half a block from the bar. 

“Yeah,” you said, “didn’t want to admit it back there but that fucking hurt.”

You looked down at your hand, your knuckles flecked with the guy’s blood. Bruises would soon be forming there but at least you could tell your father something he taught you had come in useful. 

“C’mon, Rocky, let’s get you cleaned up,” Maddy said, dragging you down the street.

“Monday is going to be awful,” you told her.


	6. Chapter 6

Come Monday, Carol had found that all she’d been able to think about all weekend was the way you’d punched that asshole. She’d found herself pausing while she did the washing up, while she brushed her teeth, while watching television, images of you drawing back your fist invading her mind. She hadn’t realised how hot the thought of violence could be. 

There was something enjoyable in the thought you’d done it for her, like you were trying to protect her. The thought of you wanting to protect her sent shivers down her spine, and brought a smirk to her lips. 

The only thought from the night that made her pause was the woman you had spendt the evening with. The two of you had looked close, laughing and smiling together. You’d walked away together, arm in arm, and part of her brain had spent the two days away trying not to think about where the two of you had gone together. She definitely hadn’t thought about you having sex with her.

She watched you walk in, leaning back in her chair. You hair was unusually rumpled and you were watching your feet as you strode to the back of the room. Her eyes trailed over your figure, taking in the way your dress came in at your waist and flared over your hips. She wanted to know what it felt like to hold them, to pin them to a wall.

You glanced at her, your eyes meeting. You flickered your eyes away, biting the inside of your cheek. You’d spent most of the weekend barely sleeping, haunted by images of her. That first week at work had been sexual frustration hell, and it was all to do with Carol. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t cum to the thought of her more than once. 

Part of you wondered if Maddy had been right. If you had taken some woman home for a good time you might not still be feeling this way. If you’d had someone to help take care of this sexual frustration maybe you wouldn’t be avoiding looking at her now.

And yet part of you knew that probably wouldn’t be true. You wanted Carol in a way you were unused to and no tawdry one night stand would change that. You wanted her to possess you, to know you possessed a part of her too.

You glanced up again. She was leaning back, her fingers threaded, resting on her stomach. She was watching you, her eyes calculating as they swept over your body. You shivered, turning away. You were scared if you looked at her she would know exactly how you’d spend the weekend. 

For her part, Carol was having trouble looking at you without thinking about that other woman. She kept imagining you on a mattress, naked and writhing, another woman’s head between your legs. She wasn’t jealous. But the thought of not being the one to bring you to your high made her growl low in her throat. 

“Beckett,” she said and you shivered.

Her voice was low and gravelly. You wanted to know what it would sound like first thing in the morning, what it would sound like moaning your name.

You turned to look at her. You licked your lips, noting the way it felt as if her gaze was consuming you. Flames were flaring up inside you, and you wanted to reach out to her.

“Can you check on the paint levels?” she asked.

“Sure thing, Carol,” you said.

You walked past her desk, holding your hand behind your back. Your knuckles were bruised, painful when you bent them. You didn’t want her to see, to remember what you’d done. She hadn’t brought it up, and you were not willing to open that door so early in the morning.

You stood in the cool store room, the light flickering above you. You stared around at the shelves, looking at the huge bottles of paint. There was no way any of these could be almost empty. Only one class had been using paint. This felt like Carol was just trying to prove the power she had over you.

Carol let out a long breath, watching you disappear into the storage cupboard. She gripped the edge of her desk, having to tell herself not to follow you. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to trust herself in such an enclosed space with you.

Kids began to filter in, chatting with one another, spreading their stuff out on desks, talking about the latest inane high school gossip. Carol had to hold herself back from rolling her eyes. Derek had told her off enough times for doing it, making kids feel condescended. It wasn’t worth the fight any more. 

You walked out, chewing on your bottom lip. Carol raised her brows at you, waiting for your answer.

“All good,” you said, and walked past her, not meeting her eyes.

She huffed, unhappy with the way you were ignoring her. After Friday night she would not expect you to act as if she was no more than a stranger you were passing on the street. You owed her something more than what you were giving her. 

“Hey, Miss Beckett,” Davis said, rushing into the room, the bell ringing a few moments later.

He flung himself onto a stool, out of breath, ignoring the snickering of the other kids. You gave him a smile as you passed by. He grinned at you and you shook your head.

Carol called the class to order, her eyes straying to you at the back of the room. You were watching her surprisingly intent given the way you’d been acting all morning. She felt the way her heart thumped against her ribcage, barely getting through the instructions for the students.

The normal noise of kids working on projects overcame the classroom. Carol sat back at her desk, acting as if wasn’t due to you turning her legs to jelly with no more than a look. There was so much heat in it. She was so unused to anyone looking at her like that.

“Hey, Miss Beckett, what happened to your hand?” Davis asked, when you passed again.

You paused, looking at him then down at your hand. You hadn’t thought about this moment, hadn’t planned anything. You should have figured out what you’d say if one of the kids asked. God knows you’d asked much worse things of a teacher than how they got a bruise.

“Oh, you know,” you said, your brain going at breakneck speed to find an answer, “just got clumsy.”

“Yeah, but what happened?” he asked.

You wanted to sigh and roll your eyes. Why did he have to be so persistent?

“Oh, I just hit it on something,” you said, “I don’t really remember.”

You looked over your shoulder, meeting Carol’s gaze. She was smirking at you, listening to your fumbling explanation. Fuck. She would not let you live this down.

You walked on, continuing past the other desks. You stopped to answer a few more questions, thankfully about art and not your weekend escapades. You avoided looking at Carol again, dreading the moment she would berate you for your stupid act. 

Every time the bell rang you busied yourself, tidying the classroom, straightening the storage room, digging through your bag as if searching for something. You didn’t want to give her the opening to have a go at you. You didn’t need her to remind you of your own stupidity. You had the bruises on your skin to do that for her. 

It took you a beat too long to realise the last bell you’d heard was for lunch. You looked up from where you were crouched over your bag at the click of the door closing, Carol’s hand resting on the wood. You gulped.

She sauntered over to you, her long legs carrying her easily. You stood, not wanting to feel even shorter than she already made you feel. She stopped in front of you. She tilted her head as she considered you and you bit your lip, unsure what she wanted.

“How was your weekend?” she asked, her voice slow and sure. Your stomach clenched.

“Fine,” you said. She didn’t know the details. She wasn’t going to ever know the details.

She looked at you some more, her eyes for once not cold or hard. You could hear your heart beating, the silence almost a living thing between the two of you.

She reached out a hand, grasping your wrist. Your breath hitched. She pulled your hand up, looking at the black and blue on your knuckles. You held your breath. Her thumb swiped over your skin and you had to work hard not to shiver. 

Her eyes were intent, taking in your skin. You bent your fingers and her tongue came out to lick her bottom lip. You wanted to groan. 

You were surprised by how soft her skin was, how smooth it was. Given her natural prickly demeanour, you hadn’t expected anything about her to be soft. She continually surprised you.

Her fingers were cold too, which you had not been expecting. It wasn’t unpleasant. There was something nice about the coolness against your increasingly heated skin. Part of you wondered what those fingers would feel like against other parts of your body. Part of you wondered if all her skin was so soft.

She was mesmerised by the stark contrast of your pale skin and the dark bruises. She felt an inexplicable anger that you were marked as such, that the asshole had this lasting effect on your body. She felt proud that these marks were on your body because of her. 

She dragged her eyes back up to your face, taken aback by the way you were looking at her. It was like you were trying to take all of her in, trying to commit her to memory. She felt her breathing stop, suddenly feeling as if she had lost control of the situation. She stepped back, dropping your wrist as if she had been burnt. She turned on her heels and stomped out of the room, a scowl already growing on her face. 

You stared after her, not sure what had just happened, not sure there were words in the English language to explain it. There were no words for the emotions you were feeling. You were royally screwed.


	7. Chapter 7

Carol had ignored you for the rest of the day. Her eyes had skittered over whichever part of the room you were in. The kids seemed to sense her bad mood, not raising their hands to ask questions, keeping the noise level low.

The moment the final bell had rung she’d fled from the room, not even bothering to pretend in front of the kids. She’d felt your eyes on her the entire walk to her car. She needed to shake it off.

Which is how she ended up finding herself in a bar on a Monday night. It wasn’t the same bar as Friday, not needing you clouding her thoughts. She was drinking to forget, not to remember. 

She’d gone home with a young woman in her haze of drunkenness. She’d let the woman lead her to her apartment, let her play her body like an expert. When she’d looked down, her hands fisted in platinum blonde hair, she’d felt a stab of disappointment.

As she’d cum around the woman’s fingers she’d felt discontented. 

When the woman had slipped into sleep she had scrambled out of bed, haphazardly pulling her clothes on. She’d stumbled out of the apartment, using the late night air to sober her up a little. She tried to ignore the shame coating her skin. She’d spent the evening imagining your glittering brown eyes, your deep auburn hair tangled around her fingers, your lips trialing over her skin. She felt so lacklustre. She wanted you.

Watching you waltz into the classroom the next morning was hard. She was hungover and tired, and after the events of the night before, more than a little disgruntled. 

You smiled at her, a little hesitant. You looked as if you hadn’t slept all too well the night before either, blinking a little longer than normal. The difference is you looked put together, still managing to smile. Carol wanted to destroy you for being so perfect when she was falling apart because of you. 

You looked over at her, ignoring the way she was glaring at you. You felt as if something had shifted between the two of you after whatever had happened the day before. The way she was ignoring you, refusing to meet your eyes, said more to you than anything she had actually said. 

“Morning,” you said.

She grumbled something, resting her head in her hands. You laughed, and despite the way she enjoyed the sound, she was annoyed you could be laughing so early while her head was throbbing so insistently. She could physically hear how cheery you were.

“Big night last night?” you asked, prancing past her to duck your head into the storage cupboard. She groaned, imagining you smiling at her. She did not need you shoving your youth, and your attractiveness, and your happiness in her face. She needed you to disappear. 

“If you know what’s good for you you will shut the fuck up,” she said, laying her hands flat on the desk to stare at you.

You smiled at her but said nothing, hopefully doing what you were told. She curled her upper lip at you and you walked past again, a bounce in your step. She grimaced at how loud your heels were on the floor. Her head felt like it would explode at any second.

You sat at the back desk, pulling your journal out of your bag. You opened it to the sketch you’d been working on, digging under all your receipts to find your wayward pencil. You looked down at the face you’d been sketching for most of the night, the expression surprisingly open and confused. You’d only seen a flash of it but it had stayed with you, replaying in your mind every time you closed your eyes.

You hadn’t been able to ignore the itch and now, staring up at you, was the face of Carol, the way you’d seen her for only a moment, the way you’d give your right arm to see her again. 

Your heart stumbled in your chest while you looked at her, not quite able to find the right rhythm. She looked away from you, scrunching her nose. You bit your lip and looked back at your picture. Something was off and you couldn’t figure out what. Maybe it was that she wasn’t sneering. 

You sighed and closed the journal. You looked up at Carol again, watching her massage her temples. You longed to be the one doing that, having your hands on her skin, making her feel good, helping her. She met your eyes, blinked, then looked away. Your heart thudded against your ribcage. 

You spent the morning, watching Carol try and get through her morning lessons while obviously hungover. You took over most of the wrangling of the students, answering questions and queries. You left Carol to sit at her desk, supposedly marking student’s work, but you watched her from the corner of your eye. Her pen rarely moved on the paper, spending more time clasped between her teeth. That sent shivers down your spine. 

You watched her sigh in relief as the lunch bell rang. You listened to the kids filter out, waving goodbye to a few of them. Carol lent her head on her folded arms the kids disappeared. You walked over to the door, closing it to stop anyone coming in, to give her a little privacy.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice muffled. 

“Not letting the kids see you like this,” you said, turning back to her. 

You were sure she was muttering about you under her breath but you ignored her, walking around to tidy up the room. You swept paper into your hands, letting it fall into the bin.

“Can you fucking stop?” she asked, a snap to her voice.

“Stop what?” you asked, continuing to straighten up the room.

“Walking,” she said, “your heels are obnoxiously loud.”

You stopped, turning to look at her over your shoulder. She was still leaning against the desk, not looking at you. You shrugged at no one and pulled your boots off your feet, putting them beside your bag. You continued to flit around the room, cleaning and tidying, getting ready for the last half of the day.

It took a while for you to notice Carol was watching you. You looked over at her, already smiling. Her upper lip was curled and it felt as if she was trying to glare at you but not quite able to. You felt your smile drop from your face, not sure what could possibly be annoying her now. 

“What?” you asked.

She shook her head then winced.

“Do you want some painkillers?” you asked, a stab of concern shooting through you.

She furrowed her brows at you, tilting her head. You shrugged and dug through your bad for the bottle of aspirin you carried with you at all times. You deposited it on her desk and she raised her brows at you. You handed her the bottle of water from your bag, assuming that was what she was looking for.

She looked down at the proffered water, then to the aspirin, then back to you. She wasn’t used to someone taking care of her. She’d been all alone for so long, keeping everyone at arms length. No one tried to take care of her.

She took the water from your hand, gulping down the painkillers, sighing at how cool the water was. She looked at you, handing the water back. Your head was tilted, your lip caught between your teeth, and she felt as if you were x-raying her.

“Thanks,” she said, and looked away from you, gazing out the window, walking over to get a better view. 

You picked up the aspirin from the desk and walked back over to the back of the room, depositing your bag in its usual place. You glanced over your shoulder at her again, and took in the way she was looking out the window. She looked a little confused, a little put out, and yet, there was a surprising glint of wonder in her eyes. You wondered if it was because of whatever she was looking at.

She glanced over her shoulder at you and rolled her eyes. She tried to ignore the way you were looking at her, the way it made her skin feel hot, the way her legs trembled. 

“Carol,” you said.

“What?” she snapped.

“Why’d you get shit faced last night?” you asked.

“Who said I got shit faced?” she asked, her voice dropping dangerously low. You shivered.

You gave her a pointed look, ignoring the way she glared at you in return. She got shit faced on a Monday night. That was bad. Part of you wondered if it was because of what had happened the day before. God knows it was the reason you hadn’t gotten enough sleep.

“None of your fucking business,” she snapped and turned away. 

You took a step forward, silent without your heels on. You let your eyes rove over her body, head to toe, lingering on the curve of her back, the length of her legs, the mane of hair you wanted to tangled your fingers in. There was nothing about this woman you didn’t want. She was driving you crazy.

“If you’re turning up to work like this, I think it is my business,” you said with more bravado than you actually possessed. 

She turned towards, slow and measured. Your stomach clenched and you had to stop yourself from taking a step back. Her eyes were burning.

She couldn’t believe you were continuing to ask her about this. Any other sensible person would have backed down, leaving her in peace. But you couldn’t. You came in here with your optimism and smiles, you offered her pain killer, and then asked her questions. Who gave you the fucking right? She wouldn’t be in this state if it wasn’t for you.

“It’s none of your fucking business, Beckett,” she said, her voice barely more than a growl.

“I don’t think you get to decide that,” you said said, taking another step forward.

“I get to decided exactly how much or how little I tell you,” she said, also taking a step forward.

“Are you always this much of a bitch, or do you do it specially for me?” you snapped. You’d enough of her fucking games. What the fuck was her problem?

Her face looked like thunder and she strode towards you. You had to do your best not to run from her, suddenly worried you may have crossed the line. She stopped in front of you, her hands visibly shaking with rage. 

“What the fuck did you say?” she hissed, leaning her face close to yours.

You looked at her, really looked at her. Beyond the dark circles and the bloodshot eyes she looked angry. Angrier than you’d ever seen her. Her nose was scrunched up, her upper lip curled. You reached up a hand, feeling as if it were no longer connected to your body.

She looked at it, confused, but not retreating. You ran a finger down her nose, making it unscrunch. Her eyes darted to yours and you couldn’t help but sigh, the blue so captivating, so compelling. There weren’t words enough to describe them. You knew you should have been scared, or angry, or something other than what you were feeling, but everything was such a jumble and all you knew was how much you wanted the woman standing in front of you.

And so you kissed her.


	8. Chapter 8

You drew back from her, your hands jumping up to your mouth. You felt your eyes widen and your stomach swooped. You were sure you’d just made the stupidest mistake of your life. She was blinking at you, her mouth open, looking confused.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, Carol,” you said, taking a step back.

Colour began to rise in her face and her jaw clenched. Her fists began to shake on either side of her body. You took another step back, getting ready to run.

“What the fuck was that?” she asked, her voice tight.

Internally, she was a mess of emotions. She was elated, knowing you had been the one to kiss her. She was angry you thought you had the right to do so. She wanted to grab you and kiss you until you admitted you were her’s. She wanted to deck you for making her feel like this. She wanted to bend you over the table and fuck you, to prove to you she was the one in control, and because she wanted to make you moan her name.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, “I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t want your fucking apology. She wanted to know what you were thinking, what the fuck was going on in your head. She hated not knowing what kind of space she took up in your mind. She wanted to know if you wanted this as badly as she did.

“What was that?” she asked, taking a step towards you. You took another step backwards

“I’m sorry,” you said again and turned tail. 

You grabbed your bag and rushed out of the room, not looking back. You ignored the students in the halls, trying to stop the tears gathering in your eyes. You weren’t sure if she was following you. You tried not to care. 

You pushed the door open and stepped into the sunlight. You winced, not wanting it to be as bright as it was. It was so at odds with the tumultuous emotions coursing through your body. You pulled out your phone and texted Anita, saying you were going home sick. She reassured you she would take care of it, and that she hoped you would feel better soon.

You slid into your car, and rested your head against the steering wheel. You were such an idiot. Why did you do that? You were going to be fired. And if you weren’t, your life was about to become a living hell. You could feel the pressure begin to build behind your eyes. You turned the key of your car, driving out of the school parking lot and going home. 

The moment the door closed behind you you felt tears begin to slide down your cheeks. You slumped on the couch, digging through your bag for your phone. Something was missing.

Your gut clenched and you felt the blood drain from your face. You’d left your journal behind. The journal full of all the pictures you’d unwittingly drawn of Carol. You couldn’t breathe, the blood was pumping so loudly in your ears, your heart wasn’t beating enough. 

“Shit,” you muttered, and grabbed your phone.

You waited, trying to get your breathing under control, trying to keep your heart in your chest. You felt as if a million years passed before Maddy picked up.

“I fucked up,” you said, not even waiting for the hello.

“Zoey?” she asked, “what the fuck? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Oh god, Mads, I fucked up so bad,” you said, beginning to rock backwards and forwards.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I kissed her. I fucking kissed her,” you moaned, burying your head in your hands.

“Carol?” she asked.

“Who else?” you asked, “and she has my fucking journal.”

“Your… what?” she asked.

“My journal,” you said, “my journal that is full of fucking pictures of her.”

“What?” she asked.

“Like a fucking teenager with a crush,” you spat, “oh god.”

Sobs overtook your body. You could hear Maddy on the other end of the line trying to get you to talk to her, trying to get you to say something. 

“I’m coming over,” she said, when you stopped replying, and hung up.

You sat on the couch waiting for her, needing her, not sure you were able to keep yourself together anymore. You wrapped your arms around your body as if that would be enough to hold yourself together. You didn’t want to break apart.

Maddy walked through the door, spare key in hand, looking so worried. She sat down on the couch beside you and pulled you into a hug. She let you cry out on her shoulder, holding you tight. 

“Explain to me what happened,” she said, once the tears had dried up.

“We were fighting and then I kissed her. Then I ran away,” you said, “and I left my journal behind accidentally.”

“I don’t understand this journal thing,” she said.

“The one I draw in,” you said, “and there are all these pictures of her in there, and knowing her, she’s already looked by now.”

“You’ve been drawing her?” she asked, leaning back to look at you properly.

“Yeah,” you said, hanging your head. 

“You haven’t done that since Sarah,” she said.

“Yeah,” you said, closing your eyes tight.

“This is bad,” she said.

“Yeah,” you said, and covered your ears with your hands.

“Shit.” She lent back against the sofa. You tried not to start crying again, knowing what that meant, wanting to ignore it for the rest of eternity. It was too much for you to deal with in that moment. 

“What are you going to do?” Maddy asked.

“Avoid her forever,” you said, leaning back too.

“What about work?” she said.

You sighed, ad tried not to roll your eyes. You turned to look at her, watching the way she was smirking at you. You tried to stop the smile, fighting against it every step of the way. Then the two of you were giggling like school girls, unable to get enough air into your lungs, leaning against one another. 

“So what are you going to do?” she asked when you both calmed down, still leaning against each other. 

“Well, I told Anita I’m sick,” you said, “I’m sure I can get tomorrow off and work out a game plan.”

“Which is?” she asked.

“Not address it,” you said, “I’ve already apologised about a million times.”

“You apologised?” she asked, sitting up straighter. 

“Like, so many times,” you said, “I’ll be lucky if she doesn’t have me fired.”

“You punched a douchebag in a bar on Friday night, and you think this kiss will get you fired?” she asked, “you’re insane.”

“Fuck off,” you said, pushing her. She laughed again. 

“What if it’s worse if you don’t face this head on?” she asked.

“It probably will be,” you said, “but I think if I go tomorrow I might throw up on her.”

“That would be a crazy trifecta,” she said.

You spent the rest of the afternoon together, eating shitty take out and watching terrible reality TV. Maddy put you to bed, tucking you in, leaving a glass of water on your bedside table. She left for her bartending job, with the promise of dropping by tomorrow.

The next morning, you woke with the sunrise, still not able to believe the rollercoaster of a day you’d had yesterday. You rolled over again, burying your head in the pillow. You were thankful you no longer wanted to cry. That had gone with the good night’s sleep.

You pottered around your apartment, the TV on in the background no matter what you were doing, filling your home with noise. You wished you still had your journal, wanting to draw. Every time you thought about it you felt another wave of nausea. You didn’t know how to face Carol.

You were laying on the sofa, your arm over your eyes, some time in the afternoon. You’d spent the day doing nothing, considering baking a cake, or reading a book, never quite managing it. It was hard to care when you knew you had to face the music tomorrow. There was no way to distract yourself from what you’d done.

Even in that short, momentary kiss, you’d felt her chapped lips against yours, a swooping feeling in your stomach. Part of you wanted to run to her, to kiss her again, to hold her. And yet, the thought also made you want to hide in your bed forever. It might be the single greatest moment of your life. It might be the single worst moment of your life.

A pounding began on the door. You looked over, assuming it was Maddy. She had the spare key. She could get in. The knocking continued. You sighed and stood up, shuffling over to the door. 

“Fucking hell, Mads,” you said as you pulled the door open.

Carol stared back at you, her eyebrows raised.


	9. Chapter 9

Carol stood, watching you flee. She didn’t know what else she expected from you. Part of her wanted to chase after you, demand answers, kiss you again, part of her never wanted to see you again. She turned away from the door, finally feeling her headache dissipate. 

She noticed your notebook, sitting on the floor. She walked over, picking it up. She glanced over at the door, assuming you weren’t coming back. She flipped it open, the first page a picture of an orchard. She was surprised how beautiful it was, how perfect it was. 

She kept flipping through the pages, stopping occasionally. She stopped on one page, her breath hitching. Staring back at her was her own face, her customary sneer in place. She continued flipping, seeing her face again and again. She stopped on the last one, your pencil still stuck between the pages. She felt her breathing stop, her heart thudding so hard. No one had ever seen her like that. 

She looked beautiful.

She growled and slammed the notebook shut. She didn’t want to look at it anymore, didn’t want to feel the way it was making her feel. She put it on her desk, sitting in her chair. She lent back, closing her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

She waited, ignoring the work she had to do. It had been piling up this past week, but she couldn’t find the energy to deal with it. She kept seeing the picture you’d drawn in her mind’s eye. It was a lot to think about. She wondered how anyone could see her like that, let alone you. 

The bell signalling the end of lunch sounded, and still you did not reappear. She sniffed, watching the children settle in their seats. She needed you there. This was your fucking job. Why were you not there?

She looked up when you heard someone knocking on the door. Derek’s fucking secretary was standing there, piece of paper in hand. She rolled her eyes but got up, walking over. She passed the paper to you.

“Zoey has gone home sick,” she said.

She looked down at the paper, her eyes barely glancing over it. She could feel herself begin to shake, anger building up in her. Who the fuck did you think you were? You kissed her, and then run away and avoid her? You had some fucking nerve.

She nodded at the secretary and walked back to her desk, crumpling the paper. She glanced at your journal, curling her upper lip.

“Get to work,” she barked at the students, sitting down at her desk.

She pulled her marking towards her, just trying to get through the rest of the day. She needed time to think over what had happened, consider everything that had happened, how she was going to react next time she saw you. She needed to get home and be alone to think this over.

The day dragged on, her headache coming back, the sun still too bright, the kids too loud. Without you wrangling the kids, she found her fuse growing shorter and shorter. It was lucky the day ended when it did, because the next student to ask an inane question or make too loud of a noise would have been yelled at and shoved into detention.

She slowly packed up, picking up your journal for a more in depth perusal when she got home. She shut the lights off and walked through the halls, pushing her way out of the building. She slumped in the driver’s seat of her car, taking deep breaths. 

She pulled out of the carpark, barely managing to not run over a couple of stupid kids. She went to throw them the finger then remembered she actually liked working at the school. She growled, leaving them behind. They would either learn or be hit, just not by her.

She thought back, the way you’d grabbed her, the way you’d kissed her. She didn’t think anyone had ever kissed her like that, like she was the air they breathed.

She wanted to feel that again.

The notebook beside her burned, and she was itching to look through it again. Not just to see herself, but to look at your artwork.

She pulled into her driveway, sighing as she shut off the engine. She closed her eyes for a moment, the ghost of your lips against her’s flitting through her mind. She growled and got out of the car, slamming the door behind her. 

She sat on the sofa, holding your notebook in her lap. She opened it again, giving each picture consideration. She couldn’t help but be impressed with your skill. She hadn’t been expecting it. She didn’t know why.

She stopped on the last picture you’d drawn of her. It made her feel too many things, her heart expanding too much. She slammed it closed again, throwing it onto her coffee table. She didn’t want to deal with it anymore. 

She tried to ignore the thoughts swirling through her mind, ignoring the way she wished you hadn’t run out. She tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach when she thought of the next day, when she could confront you. 

She thought she might shout at you.

She thought she might kiss you.

She didn’t want to deal with it.

She went to bed early, hoping she’d fall asleep as soon as possible. If she was asleep she couldn’t think about you.

Except thoughts kept swirling through her head, hours lost as she went over the kiss again and again. She didn’t feel better as the hours ticked away, wearing through the carpet of her thoughts. She wondered if she could call in sick.

She rose with the sun, wishing she’d had any kind of sleep. After a day with a hangover and a night with no sleep she was feeling on edge. She wanted to thrash you for making her feel this way. She couldn’t explain it other than it was your fault. 

She had a couple of cups of coffee before she even got into the shower. She tried to wash the feeling of your touch from her skin. She couldn’t scrub you from her mind.

She got back into her car, driving to school. She hoped you’d be there when she arrived, used to you being there far earlier than you needed to be. She needed to see you, to calm herself again. 

It wasn’t until she got to work that she realised she’d forgotten your journal. She had wanted to confront you with it, point out exactly what you’d done. She cursed herself, blaming the coffee and the thoughts of you for her terrible memory. 

You weren’t there when she walked in, although, given the time, she wasn’t all that surprised. She sat at the desk, watching the door, waiting for you. She’d never felt this out of control before. She hated the way you were influencing her, even when you weren’t there. 

She watched the minutes tick away, students beginning to fill the halls, and still you weren’t there. Davis entered the room, looking around the room for you. His face dropped when he didn’t see you, and although she sneered at him, part of her felt the same way. 

She wanted to rage when first period began and were still not there. You were avoiding her. That much was obvious. She couldn’t believe you would dare do that when you were the one who had instigated the kiss. All of this was your fault to begin with. You should have to face the music too.

Carol was itching all day, half expecting you to walk in, half expecting you to never show your face again. She made up her mind before the end of first period. 

When the final bell of the day rang she stormed out of the room, pushing through the stream of students heading for home. She stalked into Derek’s office, ready to go to battle with his secretary. 

“I need Beckett’s address,” she said, with no preamble.

The secretary slowly blinked at her, her hand hovering over the mouthpiece of the phone. Carol raised her brows at her, waiting for her to do what she wanted.

“One moment,” the blonde said to the person on the other end of the phone.

“Beckett’s address,” Carol said again once she had her full attention.

“And why are you requesting it?” she asked.

“I need to give her something and she was not in class today,” she growled, annoyed she had to explain anything to this woman.

“Why can’t you give it to her tomorrow?” the secretary asked.

“It’s for tomorrow,” she snapped.

The secretary sighed but typed something into the computer. She copied whatever she was looking at onto a post-it note and handed to to Carol. She snatched it from the woman’s hand and strode out. You lived in a pretty shitty part of town. She didn’t like that.

She stopped by her house to pick up the notebook. She thought it would still be best to confront you with it. You had a lot of explaining to do.

She drove to your neighbourhood, her upper lip curling when she saw the trash on the sidewalk, the bars on the windows, the distinctly unkempt look of the place. She locked her car behind her, checking to make sure she had the right number and street. She did.

She walked into your building, rolling her eyes at the lack of any security. Anyone could walk in, no questions asked. This was how people got murdered.

She climbed the stairs, not willing to be trapped in the shitty looking elevator for hours. She stopped outside your front door and took a deep breath. She knocked. Nothing. Not even a sound from inside. What if you weren’t home? She wasn’t willing to accept that.

She continued knocking, not wanting to give up. She never gave up so easily. It wasn’t in her nature. Finally the door opened.

“Fucking hell, Mads,” you said.

Your face went white when you saw who it was. Carol felt a thrill course through her body. It was finally time for some answers.


	10. Chapter 10

You stared at Carol, your heart feeling as if it had stopped. You couldn’t say anything, couldn’t figure out what was happening. Carol, on your doorstep, looking at you like she was waiting for you to do something.

“Are you going to let me in?” she asked.

You opened the door wider, stepping back to let her through. She took in your space, the shabbiness of it. Your TV was on, silently playing an old rerun of Seinfeld. Books were stacked around, spilling out of the bookcase. 

On the walls were paintings and sketches. Most were of nature, some were of faces, a few of animals. She let her eyes linger on one of the woman you’d been at the bar with. She heard the door click shut and turned to face you again.

“We need to talk,” she said.

“Do we?” you asked and stepped past her.

You picked up the remote and shut the TV off. You glanced down, suddenly realising you were still in your pyjamas. You felt your face flush and you closed your eyes, wincing at the fact Carol had seen your pyjamas. Your legs were on full display in your shorts. Why was she here?

“I think we do,” she said, sauntering over to you, that self satisfied smirk on her face. You hated that smirk. 

“Why?” you asked, turning back to her, hoping you’d schooled your features enough not to give away your feelings. 

“You kissed me,” she said.

You felt your skin flush again and you gulped. You sniffed and stepped past her, into the kitchen. You put the kettle on, searching through your cupboards for the tea. You heard her moving around your apartment, not daring to look at her. You didn’t know what you’d find.

“Are you going to say anything?” she asked.

“What’s there to say?” you said, “I kissed you.”

“Do I get an explanation?” she asked.

“Aw, have you never been kissed before?” you said, “was I your first?”

You felt her grab your arm, spinning you, pushing you against the counter. You gulped looking at her, regretting goading her like that. You didn’t want to admit to what you’d done, but you had to wonder what her deal was.

“Listen here you little asswipe, you fucking kissed me and I want to know why,” she growled, shoving her face close to yours.

You shivered, feeling that all too familiar heat between your legs. Your skin was flushed and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. You licked your lips and her eyes darted down, following the path of your tongue. Why was this so hot?

“I wanted to distract you,” you said, “stop you being angry at me.”

“And then what?” she snapped.

“What do you mean?” you asked, trying to draw back from her. The cupboard was in your way and she was holding you too tight to get loose.

“Once you’d kissed me, what then?” she snarled.

“I didn’t plan that far ahead,” you said, “I wasn’t thinking.”

“That much is obvious,” she said, but let you go.

You took a deep breath, trying to cool your racing heart. She stepped back, her eyes running over your body and she began to smirk again. You could not get a handle on this woman. She was hot and then cold, and you had no idea where you stood with her.

“Do you want some tea?” you asked, turning back to the cupboard, pulling out two mugs without waiting for an answer.

Her body pressed against your’s, trapping you against the counter again. Her hands were on your hips, squeezing, and her breath ghosted over your ear. You shivered against her.

“You’re full of shit,” she said.

“Is that a no to tea?” you asked, but your voice was no more than a squeak.

Her teeth bit down on your earlobe and you were sure your heart was about to give out any second. She tugged on it and your breath hitched. You pressed your thighs together, trying to sooth the throbbing beginning in your core.

She stepped back, chuckling and you sagged against the counter. The kettle began to whistle and she took it off the heat, giving it to you. 

You focused on the steam rising from the mugs, the herbal smell of the tea rising with it. You needed to ground yourself. You needed to stop this woman getting to you. You needed a vacation.

You passed her the mug of tea, walking past to sit on the sofa again. You folded the discarded blanket, laying it over the far arm. You sat on the edge of your seat, Carol out of sight, doing something behind you.

Carol set her mug of tea down, not that interested in it. She picked up the notebook she’d left on the kitchen island while your back was turned. She hadn’t wanted to outright accuse you of anything, hoping you’d admit whatever it was going on inside your head without the prompt. The fact you hadn’t annoyed her. You should have just told her.

“After you left yesterday,” she said into the silence, flicking through the pages of the book, “I found something rather interesting.”

She watched your back stiffen. You slowly turned your head to look at her, your knuckles white around the hot mug of tea. Your eyes were wide and there was colour high on your cheeks. She took slow steps towards you.

“Care to explain this?” she asked holding up your notebook to the last picture of her you’d drawn.

“That’s private,” you said, your voice hard. Of course she’d looked in your journal. The fucking woman wasn’t able to keep her fucking nose out of everyone else’s business. She was fucking impossible. You put your mug of tea down on the coffee table.

“You left it on the floor of my classroom,” she said, “nothing is private then.”

You rolled your eyes, reaching out a hand for your journal back. She tutted and walked around the couch, standing in front of you. She flicked to another page, her eyes roving over your work. You tried to stop the blush rising on your cheeks. You did not want her looking at your work, especially in your presence.

“Give it here,” you said, reaching for it. 

She jerked it out of your reach, turning it so you could see what she was looking at. She watching the way your eyes narrowed, despite the flush on your skin. Her eyes trailed down your body, seeing your pulse racing in your next and your chest rising and falling with your heavy breath. 

“Want to explain this one?’ she asked.

“Fuck off,” you said.

“What about this one?” she asked flicking to the next page, and then the next on, “or this one?”

“Give it here, Carol,” you said.

“How about this one?” she asked, stopping on the first picture you’d drawn of her. 

You stood from the sofa, reaching for it again. You grasped it, looking up at her. She tugged it towards her and you stumbled forwards, falling against her. She smirked at you and you snarled, trying to pull the journal from her grip.

“Carol,” you said, a warning in your voice.

“Beckett,” she said, humour colouring her voice.

“Give it back,” you demanded.

“Not until you explain yourself,” she said. 

She tugged on the notebook, pulling you against her body again. She looked down at you, enjoying the way your eyes were flashing. You looked livid at her, but you owed her something.

“I drew you, so what?” you spat, trying to get up in her face, the way she was so good at. 

“Why?” she asked.

“Why not?” you asked.

Carol sneered at you. She tugged the notebook out of your hand, tossing it onto the coffee table behind her. You tried to grab it back, your arm ending around her body. She pushed you back, your knees hitting the sofa. You sat with a thump.

You looked up at her, watching the way her upper lip curled. She lent over you, her hands landing either side of you on the back of the sofa. You gulped, wondering how embarrassing it would be if you climbed over the back to escape. 

“You drew me, you kissed me,” she said, her face so close to your’s, “I can only come to one conclusion.”

You blinked at her, your mouth falling open. She smirked, her eyes flickering down to your lips. You shut it with a snap, and she chuckled. 

She pressed her lips to your’s, straddling your lap. You gasped. Your hands grasping her hips. Her hands tangled in your hair, tugging on it. You moaned, your fingers tightening on her, digging into the flesh of her hips. 

She bit down on your lower lip, and you groaned, trying to pull her closer. She swept her tongue into your mouth, her hands in your hair pulling your head back. Your neck arched and she consumed you, her lips possessing you.

She trailed her lips down your neck, her teeth scraping against your skin. She sucked on your neck, biting down, her tongue soothing over your skin. You tightened your arms around her, your breathing coming hard and fast. Your back was arching and you were sure your were moaning, but this was a moment you’d been fantasising about for the last week and a half.

She kissed you again, hard and heated. She was all tongue and teeth and all you could think was she kissed exactly the way you imagined. She was as dominant in her kisses as she was in her classroom. Just the thought made you wet.

“Ready to explain yet?” she asked, drawing away from you.

You shook your head, whimpering. She lent forward again, sucking your earlobe into her mouth. She nibbled on it, and you arched your neck again. Her hand moved down your body, her fingers trailing over the skin of your neck, down to your chest. 

She circled your nipple over your shirt and you felt it harden under her touch. You moaned, your hands moving up her back, trying to press her against your body. She kissed you again, and all you could do was surrender yourself to her.

Her other hand slipped down your body, playing with the hem of your shirt, her fingers skimming over the exposed skin of your stomach. It made you shiver, her calloused fingers scraping over your soft skin. Your hands slipping into her hair.

It was so soft, so full, just the way you’d imagined. You tangled your fingers in it, the strands slipping over your hands. You tugged on it, wondering what would happen. She growled, low in her throat, and your stomach swooped. She pinched your nipple, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger. You gasped, your head falling back.

She bit down on your pulse point, hard enough to leave marks on your skin. She lent back, watching you. Your skin was pleasantly flushed, your breathing heavy. She tugged on your nipple, watching the way you moaned, the way your back arched towards her. You were glorious.

She kissed you again, letting your nipple go to palm your breast. Her other hand pushed your shirt up, her short nails scrapping against your skin. She wanted to possess you, to own you. She wanted to make you cry out in pleasure, to groan her name.

Your hand were tugging on her hair and she was kissing you, long and deep. You were gripping her hip and she loved the way your fingers dug into her. She wanted to consume you.

You heard someone unlock a door, assuming it was the neighbour. The thin walls in your apartment building were a fucking nightmare. You wanting something thicker if you were going to do everything you wanted to do to the woman in your lap.

“What the fuck?” someone asked.

You looked over. Maddy was standing by the kitchen island, the door shutting behind her.


	11. Chapter 11

“Shit,” you muttered, pushing Carol from your lap. 

You ignored her protests as you stood, facing Maddy. You opened your mouth to say something but nothing came out. There was nothing you could say. No explanation. You shouldn’t have done it, but had really wanted to.

“Zoe, what the fuck?” Maddy asked again, looking to you for answers.

“Hi Mads,” you said, “what are you doing here?”

“I’d told you I’d swing by today to see how you were doing.” She looked over at Carol, “I see I didn’t need to. You’re doing fine.”

“Um yeah,” you said, looking over at Carol too.

She was glaring at you, her lower jaw jutting out, her arms crossed over her chest. Her hair was tousled from where your fingers had been running through it. Her lips were swollen, and despite the obvious anger in every part of her being, her skin was pleasantly flushed. You were already itching to touch her again.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” Maddy asked.

She grabbed your arm and steered you into your bedroom, closing the door before either you or Carol could say something. She lent back against the door, crossing her arms over her chest, levelling a glare at you.

“Want to tell me what the fuck it was I just walking in on?” she asked.

“God, I don’t know,” you said, running your fingers through your hair. 

You let your hands fall to your sides, remembering how Carol had tugged on your hair. You dropped to the bed, burying your head in your hands. You could feel your body begin to shake, regret and anxiety coursing through you. You’d made a huge mistake.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Maddy said, stepping away from the door.

She sat beside you, her arm coming up around your shoulders. You lent against her, trying to fight back tears. You’d never felt so out of control before, never felt like you were just making a string of bad decisions, one leading on to the next. 

This was all Carol’s fault. You were sure of it. Who was she to appear on your doorstep? Who was she to look through your journal? Who was she to kiss you like that? Yes, this was all her fault.

“We can tell her to leave and when you go to work tomorrow you can pretend like this never happened,” Maddy said, rubbing you back in soothing circles.

You laughed humourlessly. As if it would be that easy with Carol. If she was willing to find out your address and trek over to your neck of the woods when you refused to show up to work, all because of one short kiss, she was hardly going to let you ignore one of the hottest experiences of your life. She’d make your life a living hell, even if she didn’t know it.

“I need a new job,” you said.

“What? Why?” Maddy asked.

“If I stay in this one,” you began then shook your head, “you don’t understand. It’s her.”

You gestured vaguely at the door. You couldn’t put into words how bad this was, how bad it would be. You knew in your gut that something had shifted so unequivocally that part of you was still reeling from it.

“I need to talk to her,” you said, standing from the bed.

“Are you sure?” Maddy asked, “I can get rid of her for you.”

“No, I gotta do this,” you said, “stay here.”

You shut her in your room, taking a deep breath and turning to look at Carol. She was sitting on the sofa, your mug of tea in her hands. She looked over at you, as impassive as always. You took another deep breath and walked over, sitting on the arm of the armchair.

“So,” you said, not sure what you were going to say exactly.

“So,” she said, raising her brows at you. 

“We need to talk,” you said.

“Is your girlfriend staying, or should I say goodbye to her?” she asked.

“What?” you asked, not sure how you’d already lost control of this conversation, “Maddy isn’t my girlfriend.”

“Then why is she acting like it?” she asked.

“She’s been my best friend since I was six,” you said, “she’s like my sister. That’d be weird. And wrong.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“You got a problem with that?” you snapped, fed up with the hot and cold nature of her.

“No sisters act like that,” she said.

“If you believe that then I feel sorry for your sisters,” you said.

“Don’t,” she said, “they’re fucking cunts.”

You stared at her, not sure what to make of that. In less than a minute you’d found out she had sisters and that she didn’t get along with them. You weren’t sure you knew anything else about her. At least, not anything you’d be able to tell another person. 

“Why did you kiss me?” you asked.

“How the tables have turned,” she said, leaning forward to put your mug down on the coffee table. You looked away, keeping yourself from the temptation of looking at her exposed cleavage. You tried to ignore the way you wanted to run your tongue over her exposed skin.

“Why?” you asked again.

“I wanted to,” she said.

You watched her stand, watched her stalk towards you. She stopped in front of you, her hands landing either side of your legs. She lent forward, her breath ghosting over your face and you had to suppress a shudder.

“Did you not like it?” she asked.

“Whether I liked it or not is not the point,” you snapped, getting ready to push her off you, your hands resting on her shoulders.

“So you did like it,” she said, and pressed her lips to yours again.

You dug your fingers into the skin of her shoulders, sure you were leaving bruises. You let her into the space between your legs, pressing your body against her’s. She dominated you, captivated you, possessed you. It was as if she knew exactly what you wanted and gave it to you.

Her fingers trailed up the exposed skin of your thighs, and your legs parted even further for her. You were still so wet for her, not quite having recovered from the last make out session. She dug her fingers into your hips and you felt the place between your legs throb.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” a voice interrupted.

You pushed Carol away from you, your skin flushed, your breathing heavy. Maddy was standing in the doorway of your bedroom, arms crossed, looking a mixture of exasperated and annoyed. You felt yourself blush, and you looked down at your hands, your fingers twisting together.

“I leave you for five minutes,” Maddy said, striding towards you.

She put her hands on Carol’s shoulders, pushing her to sit on the sofa again, planting herself on the coffee table between you.

“If you’re going to act like horny teenagers, I’m going to stay here until this conversation is finished,” she said, crossing her arms, looking defiantly between the two of you.

You nodded, taking a deep breath to steady your heartbeat.She was right, the way Maddy was always right. You should have realised Carol wouldn’t let you have this conversation without being difficult. Not now she knew how easy it was to distract you.

“What conversation?” Carol asked.

You looked over at her, your heart thudding a little harder. It was hard to concentrate when her lips were swollen and jaw was set. Angry shouldn’t look so sexy.

“The one where Zoe says what she needs to say,” Maddy said. Both women turned to look at you.

“And what does Beckett need to say?” Carol asked you.

“Look,” you said, not sure how the sentence was going to end, “we work together.”

“Congratulations for stating the fucking obvious,” Carol said. You rolled your eyes but you knew she had a point. You sounded like a fucking idiot.

“Romantic relationships in the work place never work out well,” you said, “I’ve been in enough to know.”

“Who said anything about romance?” Carol snapped.

“Fine, sexual relationships, whatever,” you said, waving away her concern. That was something to think over later, “it’s a bad idea.”

“What’s your point?” Carol asked.

“We should stop before anything else happens,” you said, conviction ringing in your voice.

“And what if that’s not what I want?” Carol asked, tilting her head to consider you.

“Then that’s very sad for you,” you said, “but my mind is made up.”

“Didn’t seem very made up when my tongue was down your throat just now,” she said, smirking at you.

Colour flooded your cheeks once agains but you refused to look away from her. She wasn’t going to intimidate you into doing something you knew was a bad idea. You only had to look back at your dating history. Once was enough to teach you your lesson.

“We need to go back to being just colleagues,” you said.

“Not possible,” she said, standing from the couch, “you’re mine now.”

“Wow,” you said, standing too, “I’m not anyone’s except my own. I don’t belong to you. You don’t own me.”

“We’ll see about that,” she said, and turned, stomping towards the door. She turned to look back at you, “see you at work tomorrow.”

The door shut with a resounding click. You could feel yourself gaping as you stared at the door, not sure how to process any of that. What the fuck had just happened? You turned to Maddy as if she could answer you, but she was looking just as shell shocked.

“I think I get what you mean now,” she said, “she’s a force of nature.”

You groaned, falling back to curl up in the seat of the armchair. This whole day had gone worse than you could have possibly imagined. No one could have expected any of this. 

“You’re right, you do need a new job,” Maddy said.

You groaned again, burying your head in your knees. Tomorrow would be literal hell.


	12. Chapter 12

You weren’t sure you wanted to go inside. You were sitting in your car, your hands still on the wheel, your heart in your throat, watching kids enter the school. This had been a mistake. You should turn around and go home, call in sick again, refuse to answer the door if Carol came by. You should change your name and go into hiding. 

You wanted to see her.

That thought scared you more than anything else. The strong desire to throw caution to the wind and storm in there made you sure this whole thing was a terrible idea. 

All night you’d been plagued with thoughts of her, the memory of her in your lap enough to drive you crazy. Knowing what it was like was so much worse than only having the fantasy. Now you knew what you were missing out on. Now you knew how good it was.

You took a deep breath and stepped out of the car, slamming the door behind you. You walked up to the building, taking another deep breath to calm your racing heart. It didn’t help.

You pushed open the door, waving to some of the kids and made your way to the art room. You paused when you got to the door. It was open. Carol was inside.

You took a steadying breath and opened the door wide enough to enter. Carol was sitting at her desk, the sunlight shining on her. You felt your breath catch in your throat and you had to stop yourself from running over and kissing the living daylights out of her. You tightened your hold on your bag and stepped inside.

Carol looked up, smirking when she saw you. Your heart was beating a rhythm against your ribcage hard enough to bruise. She stood from the desk, stalking towards you. You tried to ignore her, putting your stuff down, turning your back to her.

You felt her push herself against you, her front flush with your back. You stiffened, waiting for her to do something.

“I hope you’re feeling better today,” she breathed into your ear.

You shivered and she stepped away from you. You turned to look at her, noting the smirk and the confident way she held herself. She truely believed you would break, that you would bend to her whim and let this become something it shouldn’t. That infuriated you.

“Much,” you snapped.

She chuckled, turning away from you. You had to work hard not to let your eyes linger on her ass. You rolled your eyes, turning away too, not wanting to deal with her bullshit today. All you wanted was to make it through the day without anything catastrophic happening. 

“We have a lot to do today,” she said.

You glanced over your shoulder at her. She was leaning on the front of her desk, her arms crossed over her chest, pushing her breasts up. You looked away again. It felt hot all of a sudden.

“Sure,” you said.

You rummaged through your bag, pulling a pen from the bottom. You slipped it behind your ear and kept looking through your bag as if trying to find something. You didn’t want to look over at Carol. You didn’t need that image in your head again.

“If you could stay after the final class, the storeroom needs some reorganising,” she said, “Carlos almost got lost in there yesterday.”

“Sure thing, Carol,” you said.

You unlocked your phone to find a text from Maddy. It was only a heart emoji but it made you smile. You sent back a kissy face emoji and locked the phone.

‘Texting your girlfriend?” Carol asked, close behind you.

You jumped and turned to look at her. She smirked, letting her eyes rove down your body. You shuddered and tried to step past her. She rested a hand on the wall beside you, stopping you from leaving. You gulped, and flinched back. 

“No phones in school,” she said and plucked it from your hands.

She sauntered away from you, her brows raised as if waiting for you to protest. You opened your mouth but no words came out. Who did this woman think she was? 

She opened the the drawer at her desk and put your phone in it. She slid it closed and looked over at you. You took a step forward, no words summing up your feelings. She tilted her head, considering you. You licked your lips, ignoring the way her eyes darkened. You wanted your phone back.

“Hey Miss Beckett,” Davis said, walked into the room.

You started, turning to look at him, feeling your cheeks flush. You tried not to look guilty, stepping back from Carol.

“Hey kid,” you said, smiling at him.

“You feeling better today?” he asked, taking his usual seat at the back of the room.

“Yeah,” you said, “and don’t worry, it wasn’t contagious.”

“I wasn’t worried,” he said, grinning at you.

Carol watched the two of you chatting. Nothing about this was going the way she wanted. She knew she had to deal with the kids all day, but she had assumed she had before class to make some headway. Something more than just stealing your phone. 

She hadn’t counted on the Davis factor. She should have. He’d been sulking all lesson the day before, pouting and sighing that you weren’t there. Of course he would have shown up early to see if you were back. Of course he would fuck this up. She always forgot the pains of a student crush.

She sat at her desk, watching the two of you. Occasionally, you glanced over at her, your skin flushing again. It was better than nothing. At least she had the lunch break, and the reorganising of the storeroom. It would have to be enough.

She watched you greet the kids as they filtered in. Each one seemed happy to see you, much more than they were to see Carol. She would have been annoyed by that if she hadn’t understood. You were the kind of person people liked to see. She was not. 

She started the lesson, letting her eyes linger on you as she taught the class. Your eyes were fixed on her and it made her feel powerful, knowing she held your full attention. She watched you move through the students, helping them when they needed it, making suggestions when you saw something that could be improved on.

She finally let herself take in your whole form. Your dress was tight over your chest, flaring out at your hips. The neckline was a little low, letting her see what she was dying to touch. From some of the looks the boys were giving you she wasn’t the only one to notice. It made her blood boil. 

You pushed your hair behind your ear, your pen twirling between your fingers. She wanted those fingers on her body, in her body. You were smiling at the students, and she wanted you to be smiling at her. She hated you smiling at other people. They should only be for her. 

Her eyes slid down your legs then back up. You were looking at her, your eyes dark, your bottom lip between your teeth. You blushed and looked away from her. She smirked and looked down at the work she still needed to mark. She’d been falling behind.

And then it was lunch. The morning had slipped away, faster than Carol would have liked. She’d been so focused on you she hadn’t noticed the time going by.

She stood from her desk, watching the children file out. You watched them too, waving to a few as they left. When the door closed you looked over at Carol, the smile slipping from your face. You turned away, picking up your bag.

“See you later,” you said, and walked out to meet Anita in the staff room. 

You tried to ignore the way your heart thudded at the thought of later. You needed to get out of there before your resolve crumbled and you let her take you on her desk. Even though you desperately wanted her to. You needed a time out to get your head back in the game.

You needed a break from Carol.


	13. chapter 13

“Glad to see you’re better,” Anita greeted you, handing you a cup of coffee. 

You chugged it, ignoring the burning. You were ready to get the rest of this day over. You wanted to lock yourself away in your apartment to keep the world out. More specifically, to keep Carol out, of both your life and your head. 

“That woman is going to be the death of me,” you said, slumping into a chair.

“I warned you,” she said, sitting across from you. 

She looked amused, as if she was holding in a laugh. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile at her indulgently. She had warned you, but not about the current problem you had. You weren’t sure anyone could have warned you about that. 

“Hey, if you want to avoid her for a little longer there’s some paper work you still need to fill out,” Anita said, breaking into your thoughts.

“Will it take me all day?” you asked.

She laughed and shook her head, “unfortunately not, but it’ll keep you away for at least a little while.”

“I suppose it’ll do,” you said.

You spent the lunch period trying to ignore the thoughts swirling in your head. You did not want to go back to the classroom and face Carol. You weren’t sure you were able to keep pushing her away, not with how much you wanted her. 

You followed Anita to the office when the bell rang. You went to pull your phone out of your bag before remembering Carol had it. You felt the anger building again and had to take a long slow breath. She was doing it to get a reaction out of you, that was all. You wouldn’t give her the satisfaction, even if she wasn’t there to see it. 

That’s where Carol found you half an hour later. She looked ready to kill, her jaw tight and her fists clenched. You looked up at her, surprised to see her. She stopped in the doorway then took a step towards you. Your legs quivered.

“Where the fuck have you been?” she asked.

Her voice was low and dangerous and it sent shivers down your spine. You bit your lip, your eyes darting to Anita then back to Carol. 

“I had some stuff to fill out,” you said.

“You should have told me,” she snapped.

“You have my phone,” you said.

“You have legs,” she said and you rolled your eyes. 

You pushed the papers towards Anita, slipping your pen behind your ear again. She took them, looking over them to make sure you’d filled everything out. She gave you a nod and your smiled at her in thanks. 

“Can I have my assistant back now?” Carol snapped, interrupting you.

“You know, for someone who didn’t want me in the first place you’re desperate to have me now,” you said, sauntering past her.

From the way Anita laughed you were sure Carol’s face was flushed with anger. You walked back to the classroom, Carol hot on your heels. You ignored her, finally feeling in control of the situation. 

You dropped your bag at the back of the classroom, not commenting on your tardiness. You left Carol to whatever work she had to do, walking amongst the students to help. You didn’t even want to think about how angry Carol was at you not being there the moment class started. You liked taking the control from her. She didn’t own you.

Carol kept her eyes on you the entire lesson, not wanting you to slip away again. When you hadn’t shown up at the start of class she’d worried you’d taken the rest of the day off sick again. She hadn’t been sure she had wanted to go back to your shitty apartment. She didn’t want to literally chase you around the city to get you to give in.

She glared at you every time you stepped slightly too close to the door. You rolled your eyes every time you caught her eye. She was acting like a possessive child who didn’t want to let their favourite toy out of their sight. And yet every time you caught her eye you felt a flush of the thrill of knowing a woman like Carol wanted you. You weren’t used to feeling like you had that kind of power. 

You hoped the students didn’t notice whatever it was going on between you and Carol. You would have been mortified if they had even an inkling of what was going on, or what had already happened. Your thoughts were were like an r-rated movie.

You didn’t want to feel like this. You wanted her to fuck you.

The last bell rang and the kids rushed form the room. You glanced up at Carol, watching her watch the students leave. You felt your stomach clench, and began to regret agreeing to staying behind to reorganise the storeroom.

“Beckett,” Carol said, still not looking at you.

“Yes?” you asked, your eyes still trained on her.

“Come here,” she said, finally dragging her eyes to you.

You stepped past the tables the students had been sitting at and tried not to flush under Carol’s gaze. Her face was impassive, but her eyes were dark and your mouth went dry. He let her eyes wander over your body and you shivered, biting down on your bottom lip.

“The store cupboard,” she said, nodding to the open door.

“Sure Carol,” you said.

You entered the small cupboard, the light flickering above you. You looked up at it, worried it would blow before you were done. You took a deep breath and got to work. You were taking mental notes on what you would need to restock soon.

You could understand why Carlos had almost gotten lost. There were piles of things still on the floor, boxes piled up against the wall. You were surprised there hadn’t been more broken ankles with the hazards waiting to be tripped on. 

“Getting stuck in?” a voice asked from behind you.

You started, turning to find Carol leaning against the doorframe. You turned away again, remembering last time the two of you had been in the storage room. All you wanted was to finish organising the room and get home to try and push Carol out of your mind.

“It’s insane in here,” you said.

You bent down to pick up a full bottle of paint. You stretched up to put it on the shelf, replacing the empty one you’d thrown to the floor. You felt warmth behind you and you spun. Carol was standing there, her usual smirk in place. 

“I trust you to make it better,” she said, leaning forward.

Her breath ghosted over your face and you tried to jerk back. She placed a hand on the shelf beside your head, steadying herself. You looked up at her, feeling as if you couldn’t breath. She was drawing closer.

She pressed her lips to yours and you gasped. Your skin felt on fire, your heart was thudding loudly in your ears, and you felt breathless. You placed your hands on her waist, not sure if you wanted to pull her closer or push her away.

She bit down on your bottom lip and you moaned, your legs already beginning to tremble. You needed her. You hated it.

You pushed her away, trying to catch your breath. She was still so close, her hand on the shelving. You tried to push her further from you but she wouldn’t budge, her eyes roving over your face. 

You wanted this so badly, and with your brain so clouded with lust it was hard to remember why you’d said no in the first place. You pulled her in for another kiss, your fingers digging into her hips. She tangled her fingers in your hair.

You pressed your body to her’s. She slipped one of her legs between your’s, pressing against your core. You groaned, heat pooling in your stomach. She drew away from you, watching you as she pressed more insistently against your cunt. 

“You’re mine,” she said, “believe me now?”

You nodded, pulling her in for another kiss. She pressed you back against the shelving. She slid her hands down your body, palming your breasts. You arched your back towards her hands and she pinched a nipple. 

“Done pretending you don’t want this?” she asked.

“God, Carol,” you moaned, trying to pull her into another kiss.

“Have you?” she asked, giving your nipple another pinch.

“Yes,” you groaned, your head falling back against the shelf.

“Good,” she said, letting you go.

You whined, reaching out a hand towards her. She slapped it away and sauntered over to the doorway. You watched her, your mouth falling open. Was she really going to leave you there like that? Now that she’d gotten what she’d wanted?

“Finish the cupboard,” she said, “then we’ll see if you’ve been good enough for a reward.”

You lent back against the shelving when she left. You needed to catch your breath. You needed to be fucked. 

You turned to survey the rest of the room. There was still so much work to do. You weren’t going to disappoint, if the promise of reward was real. And you were pretty sure it was. 

You got back to work.


	14. Chapter 14

By Friday afternoon you were finding it difficult to concentrate on anything other than the thought of Carol’s hands on your body. You were absolutely useless during class and Carol kept catching your eye, giving you a knowing smirk. 

She hadn’t brought up the incident in the storage room yet. By the time you’d finished organising it she’d slipped from the room without you noticing. You’d wanted to throw something when you saw the empty room. Carol knew exactly what she was doing and part of you hated her for it. Part of you loved the power she had over your body, with little more than a promise of fuck. She’d left your phone for you on the desk and you’d taken it before leaving. It was the most considerate thing she’d done all day.

You let out a long sigh when the last bell rang and you watched the kids file out for the weekend. You turned to look at Carol. She was sitting at her desk, legs spread, piece of paper held loosely in her hand. Her eyes were trained on the paper, her tongue tapping against her upper lip. 

You walked forward, your heels ringing through the silent room. You stopped in front of her desk, leaning forward to rest your hands on the smooth top. She glanced over the top of the paper, looking bored. 

“Is there anything I can do for you, Ms Denning?” you asked.

Her eyes skated over your face and you bit your bottom lip. Her eyes rested on the low cut of your dress, and you arched your back. Her eyes snapped back to your’s and she placed the paper down on the desk. She lent forward too, standing to put her face close to your’s.

Your eyes flickered down to her lips and you saw her smirk. She lent forward a little more, close enough to kiss, her breath fanning over your face. You licked your lips and her eyes darted to them. 

“You can come home with me,” she said.

“So you were happy with my work?” you asked.

“I suppose we’ll see when we get to my house,” she said and lent away from you. 

You let out a huff but stood up straight. She stepped around your desk, motioning for you to step ahead of her. You gathered your bag and left the room. You watched her lock up and followed her into the carpark. She stopped by what you assumed was her car. She looked at you, glancing towards your car on the other side of the lot.

“I think it would be best if you followed me,” she said.

“Sure, Carol, whatever you say,” you said, and walked to your own car.

You rummaged through your bag for your keys. You started the car, waiting for Carol to leave. You followed her into the suburbs. You wouldn’t have taken Carol for a suburban person. She seemed more grungy inner city apartment in New York than suburbs.

You parked the car and slammed the door closed. You met Carol at her car and walked up the stone pathway to her front door. She had a porch. And actual real life porch. That seemed so out of character. You couldn’t imagine her sitting on the porch on a summers night with a glass of iced tea. 

She unlocked the door and you followed her in. You looked around her front room, noting the paintings on the walls. There were no photos around and sparse furnishing. There was a sofa, a coffee table and a TV. The curtains were open and you could see your car parked in front of her garden.

“I wasn’t expecting this,” you said.

“What were you expecting?” she asked, raising a brow at you.

“I dunno. Not this,” you said.

She curled her upper lip at you but didn’t say anything. You craned you neck to look behind her, seeing a dark hallway leading into the depths of the house. She grabbed your face and kissed you, not giving you time to think. 

Her tongue was in your mouth, dominating you with her kiss. You grasped her hips, pressing your body against hers. She bit down on your bottom lip and you groaned, your fingers digging into her flesh. Her hands were on your ass, squeezing and kneading. You slid your hands up her body, slipping your hands into her hair. You tugged and she bit down harder on your lip. 

She hauled you up and you wrapped your legs around her waist. She slammed you against the wall, pinning you against it. Her lips trailed down to your neck, sucking and biting your skin. You threw your head back, moaning as her teeth scraped against your skin. You could feel her smile against your neck. 

“Carol,” you moaned, tugging on her hair again.

“Yes?” she asked, drawing back to look at you. She was grinning.

“Is this my reward?” you asked.

She kissed you again, swinging away from the wall. She carried you through the house, kissing you enough to make your body thrum. 

She pushed open her bedroom door and threw you on the bed. You bounced, doing your best not to fall to the floor. She towered over you, looking down with a smirk in place. You blinked up at her, biting on your swollen bottom lip, leaning up on your elbows.

She slid her hands up your legs, hiking the skirt of your dress up. Your breathing was heavy as her fingers skimmed over the top of your thighs. Your breath caught in your throat and you had to remind yourself this wasn’t your first time. You’d never wanted another person so much.

“Sit up,” she commanded.

You did what she told you to do. Her hand slid up your body, stopping at your breast. Her thumb circled over your nipple and you felt it harden under her touch. She tilted her head, considering you, then pinched your nippled through the layers of clothing. You let out a breathy moan.

She tugged your dress over your head and flung it to the floor. Her eyes slid over your body and you felt your skin flush under her gaze. She licked her lips, her eyes darkening. She reached out her hand again, running her fingers over your cleavage. You let your head fall back, your chest heaving. 

You reached behind your back, unclasping your bra and throwing it to the floor. She lowered her head, her lips wrapping around your nipple. You moaned and her hands came up, arching your back to give her better access. Her teeth scraped over the hardened nipple and she sucked. 

“God, Carol,” you said, your hands burying in her hair again. 

She knelt on the floor, pulling your body with her. You were bent over her, a little awkwardly but it was hard to care when her tongue was doing that. Her hands were on your legs, steadying herself, squeezing your thighs. You shuddered and Carol nipped at your skin. 

She slipped her hand up, skimming over your cunt through the fabric of your underwear. You gasped, your body crying out for more. She ran her finger over you again and your hips bucked. She chuckled, pulling back from you. You ran your thumb over her lower lip and she pulled it into her mouth, sucking on it. 

“Carol, please,” you asked.

She hooked her fingers in your underwear and pulled them down your legs. She parted your legs, settling between them more comfortably. She let go of your thumb as her eyes feasted on your sopping cunt. 

Her finger ran through your folds and pressed down on your clit. Your hips bucked again and a wave of pleasure coursed through your body. She began to circle your clit, not touching it after that first time. She was still watching you, considering your reaction to her. Your fingers clenched the duvet cover. 

Her tongue licked up your slit and you cried out. She lapped at your entrance and her finger pressed down on your clit again. You fell back on the bed, no longer able to keep yourself upright. She pulled your leg over her shoulder.

She replaced her finger with her mouth. She sucked on your clit and you began to see stars behind your eyes. Your breathing was harsh in your own ears and you couldn’t keep your hips on the bed. She pressed her finger to your entrance and you could hear yourself begging for her.

She pushed her finger inside you and you let out a low groan. She pulled you closer to the edge of the bed, trying to get a better angle. She curled her finger and your legs began to quiver. You gasped her name, needing more from her.

She slid another finger into you and you could feel the wave beginning to grow. Your heart was thudding hard and it felt as if every nerve ending was on fire. The pleasure was building and all you could do was gasp. 

She pressed another finger into you, stretching you pleasurably. You were writhing against the bed, it all beginning to feel too much. You needed more, you needed to be pushed over the edge. You could see the crest of the wave, your body thrumming with all the tension in your muscles.

Her teeth scraped against your clit and you came undone, shuddering as the wave crashed down around you. You thought you might have cried out but stars were bursting behind your eyelids and your body was arching off the bed and you couldn’t tell. 

Carol was still gripping your legs, lapping up your juices. You began to come down from your high and she sat back on her heels, wiping the mess from her chin with the back of her hand. 

You sat up again, looking down at the woman between your legs. She was still fully clothed and looked like the cat that got the cream. You reached out a hand, grasping the back of her head. You pulled her back towards you, kissing her. You could taste yourself on her tongue, already beginning to feel yourself heat up again.

She crawled onto the bed, hovering above you. You pulled her into another kiss, wrapping your arms around her. She tugged on your bottom lip with her teeth and you couldn’t help the strangled moan that burst forth.

“You’re not leaving here until Monday morning,” she told you and all you could do was nod your head, pulling her in for another kiss.


	15. Chapter 15

The next few weeks were a a haze of incredible sex and time spent with Carol. You spent barely any time at your own place, spending all the time you could in the beautiful house in the suburbs. The only person you’d told was Maddy and she’d immediately told you how much of an idiot you were and how much of a bad idea the whole thing was. You knew logically she was right, but you were so enraptured with Carol you couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

Which is why you found yourself laying in Carol’s bed on Thursday morning, listening to the shower run. You were pleasantly exhausted, having spent half the night with Carol’s head between your thighs. You were now sketching in your journal, waiting for Carol to get out of the shower. You were sketching Carol as you’d seen her during the evening, neck arched and gasp on her lips. She was beautiful. 

You heard the shower shut off and smiled, closing your journal when the door opened. She had a towel wrapped around her body, her hair dripping down her back. She barely spared a glance at you, turning to look in her closet.

You slipped from the bed and wrapped your arms around her waist. You pressed against her back, kissing her shoulder while she pulled one of her endless flannels from a hanger. She turned in your arms, smirking down at you.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Nothing,” you said.

You pulled her face down, kissing her long and hard. She slipped her hands into your hair and tugged you away from her. Your neck bent backwards and she looked down at you, holding your face away from her. 

“We have work,” she said.

“We do,” you agreed. 

“Are you looking for punishment?” she asked.

“You keep promising it,” you said.

She curled her upper lip and thrust you from her. You stumbled back but couldn’t keep the grin from your face. She turned away from you, dropping the towel from her body. You paused to admire her, your eyes skating over her body. She looked over her shoulder at you with a smirk and you felt the heat grow between your legs.

You turned away before you made the two of you late for class. That would cause too much talk amongst the students and you were trying to keep that from happening. You pulled on the crumpled dress you’d stuffed in your bag from the stop over at your apartment the day before. 

You turned back around to find her dressed, thankful you weren’t going to have temptation so close. Her eyes left trails of heat in their wake as she checked you out. She reached out, smoothing your hair a little. She considered you for a moment then nodded, seemingly satisfied with your appearance. 

You snatched up your journal and stuffed it into your bag, turning to leave the room. She grabbed your arm and pulled you in, giving you a long deep kiss. She let you go and you stumbled over your own feet, feeling yourself flush from desire.

“Go, before I change my mind,” she said and you let out a shuddery breath.

You turned on your heels and fled from the room, not needing any more temptation to stay. You slammed the front door and ran to your car. You got into the car and took a deep breath in, letting it out slowly to try and calm your racing pulse. You started the engine and tore out of there, not wanting to give yourself enough time to convince yourself to go back in and fuck her before she left.

You parked in the school parking lot, waving to a couple of your students as you got out. You tried to smooth out some of the creases in the skirt of your dress. You would have ideally ironed it, but given the effect Carol’s presence had on you, it was for the best to leave as promptly as possible. 

You strode into the building, using the key Carol had given you to open the art room. You slipped inside, turning the lights on as you went. You took a seat at one of the benches, pulling your journal out to put the finishing touches to your sketch of Carol. 

“Hey, Miss Beckett,” a voice said from the door.

You started, slamming your journal closed. Davis was walking towards you, all big smiles and bouncing step. You put a smile on your face, internally grimacing at the thought of dealing with him on your own. He’d been getting worse over the last few weeks. It was as if your happiness increasing had increased his interest. 

“Hey dude, how’s it hanging?” you asked, ignoring the awkwardness in your voice. 

“I’m great,” he said, sliding onto the stool beside you, “I’ve been working on something. You want to see it?”

“Sure,” you replied but he’d already reached down to pull out some paper.

He pushed them towards you and you looked down at the paper. On it he’d drawn a comic. You read through it, looking at the line drawings. They weren’t terrible, which was about the best you could say about them. You smiled at him.

“They’re great,” you told him.

“What’s great?” the voice you’d been thinking about all morning asked from the doorway.

You started again and looked over, a little guiltily. Carol strode over to you, plucking the paper from your hands. Davis’ fingers twitched as if he wanted to snatch the paper back from Carol but knew better. She scoffed and chucked it back on the bench. Davis scrabbled to pick it up and stuff it back in his bag.

You tried not to roll your eyes at Carol but knew she had a point. Not that you’d ever say that. All it took was one word to destroy a kid’s confidence and you weren’t going to be the one to blame. You got up from the stool and wandered over to Carol’s desk, thinking you should talk about the plan for next week.

She looked up at you, smirking and you felt yourself grow breathless. You lent your hip against the side of her desk, hoping to stop your legs from shaking. She raised her eyebrows at you and you felt yourself flush.

“The field trip next week,” you began with.

“Yes?” she asked, as if already knowing what you were going to ask.

“We don’t have enough chaperones yet,” you said, “I was thinking I’d ask Anita.”

Her jaw clenched and you knew this might end badly.

“Look, I know you don’t like it but if we don’t get enough we can’t go and that’ll be worse for you.”

She rolled her eyes and waved you away. You didn’t move, knowing she needed to listen to you on this one point. She looked up at you again, as if to ask what you thought you were doing.

“Do you have a better idea?” you asked.

“Do what you think is best,” she said, “you usually do.”

“Yes, and you’ve never complained before,” you said.

“Yet,” she snapped.

You rolled your eyes at her and lent closer to stop Davis from hearing.

“Anita is my friend, the same way Maddy is, and I’m not fucking either of them, and I don’t want to fuck either of them. If I did, I wouldn’t be in your bed every chance I got so stop acting like a petulant child,” you said, “otherwise we’re not going to be able to go on this field trip and you’re not going to be able to touch me for weeks if you let that happen.”

She growled, standing up to put her face to close to yours. You would have kissed her if you weren’t at school, but god you wanted to.

“Fine,” she snapped, “but I’d like to see you try and stop me from touching you.”

You drew away from her as you heard a few more students enter the classroom. You tried to banish the blush on your cheeks but now all you could imagine was Carol touching you. Or making you beg for her touch. You knew what both felt like, and it was intoxicating.

“Hey, Miss Beckett?” Davis asked, “what were you drawing?”

He picked up your journal where it was still sitting on the bench. You snatched it out of his hands, your heart thudding at double speed. He could not see the contents of your journal. He looked little hurt but you couldn’t feel sorry for your actions.

“Nope, not telling,” you said.

You stuffed in your bag, shooting a glance at Carol from your bent position. She was glaring at you, and you were sure you’d be hearing about this later. After all, in the twenty minutes you’d been at work you had challenged her, and almost let someone find out about the two of you. What had started out as such a nice morning was turning into the beginnings of a mess. You could only hope it would all be worth it.


	16. Chapter 16

You were standing on the stairs of the art gallery, listening to Carol give the usual speech to the kids about behaviour and expectations. It was amazing that the same basics of the speech hadn’t changed since you were in school. You were sure it hadn’t changed since Carol was in school. 

Anita was standing beside you, her arms crossed, squinting her eyes against the glare of the sun. She hadn’t been excited to join the chaperone list for this field trip, but as your friend she’d agreed, but only after making sure you knew you owed her one. She hated spending any more time in Carol’s company than was necessary. Given Carol’s treatment of her, you could understand why. 

Carol kept glancing over at you, and you were sure it was to make sure you weren’t whispering or giggling with Anita. She didn’t need to worry, Anita kept glancing over you, as if you were a problem to solve. Both of them were acting oddly, and you couldn’t figure out why.

You followed the kids as they streamed into the art gallery. Carol was leading them, glaring over her shoulder to keep them in line. Occasionally her eyes would flit over you and would harden. You didn’t know why she was being so distant. Even in class she would at least talk to you. All you could say it was good she wasn’t totally ignoring you. You thought that would be too much to handle.

“She’s in bitch mood today,” Anita whispered, leaning over to ensure none of the students heard. 

“More than usual?” you asked, smirking at her.

She laughed, drawing the gaze of Carol. She curled her upper lip at the two of you and pointedly turned away when she noticed you watching her. You rolled your eyes. Typical Carol.

You checked your bag in with the front desk, heralding a group of students forward to stop them from loitering. You walked past Carol, your fingers trailing across the back of her hand. She dragged her eyes over to you, sneering at you. You gritted your teeth and took your place behind her. Anita was standing beside you, waiting for further instructions from Carol.

“If you act like little shits, I will know about it, and you’ll regret it,” she said, “meet back here in three hours.”

The kids dispersed. Davis lingered, waiting to see which way you were going. You gave him a smile and he began walking into the depths of the gallery. 

“C’mon then,” Anita said, grabbing your arm to steer you towards one of the wings.

You weren’t sure what she wanted but she was purposefully keeping you away from Carol. You could tell from the way she kept glancing over her shoulder to make sure the older woman wasn’t following you. She steered you towards one of the impressionist paintings you’d viewed many times before. 

She considered it for a moment. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she looked severe, her jaw clenched. She snorted and turned to you, looking decidedly unimpressed. 

“Are you screwing Carol?” she asked.

“As in…” you tried to figure out what she was getting at, “as in sleeping with her?” 

“Exactly,” she said.

“Why would you think that?” you asked, turning back to the painting. 

“You’re wearing her shirt,” she said, nodding to your waist.

You glanced down as if you’d forgotten you had one of her flannel shirts tied around your waist. You’d put it on that morning, finding it draped over the arm of the sofa in your flat. She’d left it after she’d followed you home one day, not willing to wait until you got to her place to fuck you. You hadn’t complained.

You’d figured you could return it to her today. To make sure you didn’t forget it you’d tied it around your waist, and then when you caught sight of yourself in the mirror you’d thought you’d looked cute. You’d assumed Carol had no problem with it, she hadn’t said anything. You thought she was the kind of person who liked seeing their person wearing their clothes. She was rather possessive like that.

“Am I?” you asked, ”she has so many of these I’m not surprised we own the same one.”

“With a paint stain in the exact same colour in the exact same place?” she asked, her fingers running over the stain on the hem of the shirt.

“You’ve been paying very close attention to her,” you said, trying to change track. You ignored the twinge of jealousy when you said it. 

“She blamed me for it,” she said shrugging, “it was my first week.”

You glanced over your shoulder, noting where the students were. You sighed and grabbed her arm, dragging her over to the bathroom. She was looking at you expectantly, waiting for your answer.

“Alright, fine,” you said after making sure no one was in the bathroom with you.

“Fine?” she asked.

“We’re sleeping together,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Any good?” she asked.

“Mind blowing,” you replied.

She considered your for a moment, her head cocked to the side. She waited for her to say something.

“How’d it happen?” she asked.

“God, I don’t know. We were flirting or some shit, and then I kissed her, and then I called in sick, and then she came to see me,” you said, “I tried to stop myself but she’s hard to say no to.”

“I’ve noticed,” she said, “so that’s why you called in sick?”

“Yeah, sorry.” You scratched the back of your neck.

“And that’s why she asked for your address?” she asked.

“I guess so.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised.”

You looked at her, your mouth falling open. She was beginning to grin, that glint in her eye making you nervous.

“You’re the only person I’ve seen whose ever managed to shut her up,” she said, “you get under her skin.”

You shook your head. Sure, you’d managed to shut her up before, and on the odd occasion leave her speechless, but you didn’t get under her skin, not that way she was talking about. 

The door was pushed open. You looked over, looking startled. Carol was standing there, her arms crossed over her chest, the door swinging closed. She was glaring at you, her jaw clenched and her breathing heavy. You glanced over at Anita. She was grinning, looking between the two of you.

“Guess there’s no point pretending,” you said, looking back to Carol,” Anita knows.”

“Knows what?” Carol asked, her voice low and dangerous. It sent a thrill through your body.

“About our extracurricular actives,” you said, a note of irony entering your voice. 

She rolled her eyes, dropping her arms to her side. She took a step towards you, tugging on hem of the shirt around your waist. You looked up at her, trying to figure out what she was thinking.

“Why are you wearing this?” she asked.

“I was going to return it to you,” you said.

Her eyes met yours and you knew internally she was smiling. She scoffed, stepping back from you, looking over at Anita. You had to hold back an eye roll.

“I’m assuming that’s how you figured it out,” she said. 

Anita nodded, still grinning. Carl sighed and turned back to you.

“Make sure that none of those little shits figure it out,” she snapped, and walked out of the bathroom.

You let out a long breath, glad you weren’t chewed out. You lent back against the sink, rubbing your brow. You could feel a tension headache growing. How was this day already going like this?

“She really likes you,” Anita said.

“Don’t be stupid,” you snapped and walked out of the bathroom. 

You didn’t wait for her to follow you, moving further into the gallery. If today was going to continue in the same vein, you wanted to go see your favourite painting. It wasn’t overly popular, but the first time you’d seen it, it had taken your breath away. It was the reason you’d decided art should be your future. 

Carol was already there. You should have known. You’d told her about it, in one of those quiet moments in the middle of the night. She’d wanted to know why you loved art. You’d told her. You hadn’t thought she remembered.

“Hey,” you said, coming up beside her.

“I can’t believe this is why you decided on art,” she said.

“I love it,” was the only thing you could say.

You both stood there looking at it. You were thankful no one was there to interrupt this moment, taking comfort in the silence. You could feel the warmth radiating off her and you could hear her breathing. The smell of her coconut shampoo surrounded you. You’d never felt so at peace. 

“I like you wearing my shirt,” she said.

“I thought you would,” you replied.

She turned to you. You looked up at her, feeling yourself smiling. She was looking at you in a way you weren’t used to. It was as if something was shining behind her eyes. It made your heart glow, warm and beautiful. She took your breath away.

“Don’t do it again,” she told you.

“Sure, Carol,” you said.

She turned back to the painting, her hands in her pockets. You couldn’t stop the smile on your face. From your peripheral vision, you could see her smiling too. You’d never felt this happy before. It scared you.


	17. Chapter 17

Carol was watching you sleep. Your hair was spread over one of her pillows and your face was relaxed. She couldn’t drag her eyes from you. Her heart hurt just looking at you. 

Since that day in the art gallery she’d felt as if something had shifted. Every time she looked at you it wasn’t so much that she wanted to fuck you, although she did, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the little things. She wanted all of it, the quiet mornings, the conversation in the small hours of the morning, the soft smiles shared over a cup of coffee. 

She’d begun to notice things about you. You didn’t like black coffee, when you sketched you scrunched your nose, you refused to watch the news. You listened to podcasts while you drove, you didn’t like wearing the colour red, even though it was your favourite colour, you had a sweet tooth. 

You drove her wild with the smallest thing. When you pushed hair behind your ear in frustration her fingers itched to do it for you. When you were cooking dinner for the both of you she wanted to wrap her arms around your waist and watch you work. When you sang, a little off key, it made her heart melt and she wanted to listen to you forever.

It scared her.

She had never felt this way about anyone, never this intense. Any time it felt as if she was getting to this point she’d break it off, never see them again. She hadn’t even notice it happening with you, enjoying the time too much to realise her heart was becoming involved. And she could hardly never see you again.

Perhaps you had been right, that this had been a bad idea. You’d warned her, that you’d been through this and it hadn’t ended well, that this could never end well. She couldn’t stop her heart from feeling these things. She was beginning to get scared of the thought of you leaving. 

She didn’t like this feeling.

You sighed, shifting in your sleep. You’d turned over, curling towards her. She ran her finger down your cheek, remembering the flush on your skin she so often caused. You were beautiful, in a way she’d never expected. 

You groaned, burying your head in the pillow. She ran her fingers through your hair. You shifted closer to her, your arm wrapping around her waist. She took a deep breath, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. 

“I can feel you thinking,” you said, your voice raspy from sleep. 

She pulled you closer, until you were laying across her chest. The weight of you was both comforting and excruciating. You blinked your eyes open to look at her, your eyes still sleepy.

“Want to talk about it?” you asked.

She kissed you in reply, not wanting you to know anything about her feelings. Feelings weren’t meant to be involved here. This was an arrangement where you both got physical pleasure, and kept the emotions outside. You were fuck buddies. That was all. 

And yet…

She broke away from you, pushing you off her. You went easily, never fighting her when you were in bed. Challenging her, sure, but never fighting. She watched you, your eyes slipping closed again, your breathing evening out. 

She knew she couldn’t keep on doing this. Not anymore. 

She waited until you were asleep before slipping from the bed, tucking the covers around you. She padded into the kitchen, flicking the light on. She was glad it was Saturday morning. She’d been to work enough times too tired to function, but she was glad not to have to do it again. 

She put the coffee maker on, leaning against the bench as she watched the night sky begin to lighten. Dawn was approaching and with it a sense of foreboding. She took her mug of steaming coffee and wandered further into the house.

She pushed open the door to her studio, ignoring the shiver that passed over her. She hadn’t been in this room much lately, so consumed with your presence. It felt abandoned, the air musty, dust motes floating in the artificial light. A half finished painting was sitting on an easel in the middle of the room. She tried to avoid looking at it, knowing you would be staring back at her.

She set her mug down, picking up the canvas. She lent it against the wall, keeping it from staring at her. She grabbed a blank canvas, setting it on the easel, wanting to forget the soft skin of your body and the way you made her heart beat a little faster.

She didn’t take notice as the sun rose, didn’t care about the brilliance of the colours in the sky before her. She was so caught up in the colours she’d mixed, the strokes of the brush, the picture she was creating. Her coffee had grown cold, ignored and forgotten in her fervour. 

It wasn’t until you slipped her your arms around her waist, resting your chin on her shoulder that she noticed how much time had passed. She turned to look at you, ignoring the way her breath caught in her throat when she saw you. Your hair was a tangled mess, your eyes still held sleep, and there were imprints from the pillow on your cheek. She shouldn’t have thought you were gorgeous but she did, and she hated it.

“That’s beautiful,” you said, your eyes roving over the painting.

She shrugged, pushing you off her. She ignored the hurt look on your face and stood from her stool. She picked up her mug, taking a gulp from it then grimacing. She strode out of the room, back into the kitchen to fling the dregs into the sink. She turned, crossing her arms over her chest, watching you follow her.

“Why haven’t you ever shown me your studio?” you asked, moving around the kitchen to make another pot of coffee. She didn’t like how familiar you were with her kitchen.

“It’s private,” she barked.

You snapped your head up to her, looking hurt. She turned away from you, her upper lip curling. She walked past you, flinging open the door of the fridge, not hungry but needing something else to focus on. She needed go shopping, the shelves bare. She turned back to you.

“There’s no food here,” she said.

“Okay, we’ll go shopping,” you said, “let me go get dressed.”

“No,” she snapped, “we’re not going shopping.”

You blinked at her, biting your bottom lip. You could tell you’d done something wrong but you didn’t know what. You couldn’t remember doing anything she wouldn’t have liked. You didn’t know what was going on. She could tell from the way you were warily watching her. She didn’t like making you feel like that, but she didn’t want you thinking you were closer than you were. She didn’t want to spend time socially with you. That wasn’t the agreement.

“I think it would be better if you went home,” she said.

She watched your mouth fall open and it felt as if she had been punched in the gut. She needed to nip this feeling in the bud. There was nothing you could do to change her mind. You made her heart hurt, you made her need you, and she didn’t like it. She didn’t want it.

“Do you want me to come back later?” you asked.

“No,” she said, “we’re done.”

“Done?” you asked, so uncomprehendingly. 

“This is over,” she said, “get out of my house.”

You blinked at her, not moving. She snarled at you, grabbing your wrist and dragging you from the room. She heard you gasp, feeling her throat tighten up. She pushed you into the bedroom and you blinked up at her. She ignored the tears gathering in your eyes.

“Get your stuff and get out,” she snarled, storming out of the room.

She pushed the door open to her studio, slamming it closed behind her. She stood in the middle of the room, her breathing hard, so loud in the quiet room. A few minutes later she heard the front door close.

She screamed, grabbing the canvas off the easel and throwing it at the window. She flung the palette at the wall, the paint smearing. She screamed again, kicking the easel, sending it toppling to the floor with a smash. She looked at the broken wood unable to catch her breath.

By the time she was done the room looked as if a tornado had torn through it. The only thing left was the painting leaning against the wall. She walked over to it, listening to her heavy breathing. She picked it up, looking into your eyes. 

Her breath caught in her throat again and she felt the burning behind her eyes. She lifted her leg and slammed it through the canvas. She flung it aside, sliding down the wall. She looked at the destruction surrounding her, silent tears beginning to stream down her face. 

She wrapped her arms around her knees, drawing them to her chest. It was done. No more feelings. No more fear. No more need. You were gone.


	18. Chapter 18

You’d cried all weekend. You hadn’t been able to get out of bed, not able to understand what you’d done wrong. You’d tried calling her but it had gone straight to voicemail. You’d ignored all of Maddy’s texts, not wanting to talk about it. All you wanted to do was cry.

Monday was horrendous. Carol didn’t even look at you. She wouldn’t talk to you and all you could do was look at her, trying not to cry. You knew she could be a bitch, but you’d thought you’d gotten past the point of her acting that way towards you. You thought she’d begun to care for you.

That night you’d gone home, gotten drunk off wine, and decided you weren’t going to let Carol do this to you. She didn’t seem to give a fuck, so neither would you. It was only sex. You could get sex from anywhere. She wasn’t special.

Tuesday was difficult with the pounding headache and the nausea making you want to curl up in bed and never leave. You stopped looking at Carol, acting as if she wasn’t there. You avoided the staff room, not wanting to see Anita and explain your sorry state. You hid in your car and tried not to throw up.

Wednesday was a little better, the hangover leaving your system. When you got home you dumped all the alcohol in the house down the sink, not wanting the temptation. Or at least, it was fine until Maddy had barged into your apartment, demanding answers. You’d dissolved into tears and she’d held you, letting you get it out of your system. Then she’d given you the ‘I told you so’ speech which hadn’t helped. 

Thursday was alright if you ignored the way your throat constricted every time you looked at Carol. Your heart thudded loud and intense in your ears and you had to look away whenever she got too close. It was if she was trying to flounce her influence over you. You hated it.

By Friday you thought you had better control over yourself. You kept your head high, doing your job, not giving into her stupid mind games. You had no idea what she wanted from you, but you weren’t going to give it to her. If she wanted to see a broken mess of a human then she was going to be disappointed. 

You spent the next weekend doing all you could to distract yourself. You went dancing with Maddy, going home with a beautiful young blonde. That night all you could think about what teased hair and big glasses, cold eyes surveying you as you were brought to ecstasy. Maddy gave you shit about that. You gave yourself shit about it. You shouldn’t have been imagining it was her mouth on your cunt. 

On Monday you were called into the principal’s office, like you were a naughty child. You sat there, your knee bouncing, your hands twisting together. He gave you what you assumed he thought was a comforting smile. It wasn’t.

“Now, Miss Beckett, you’ve been with us for a few months now,” Derek said.

“Yes,” you replied, not sure what was happening.

“How would you say it’s going?” he asked, look at you over his steepled fingers.

“It’s fine,” you said.

“And you’re not having any issues with our indubitable Miss Denning?” he asked.

“She’s the easiest part of this job,” you replied.

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. You clasped your hands together, your knuckles turning white. You didn’t want him thinking you were weak, that you couldn’t handle Carol. 

“And the students aren’t giving you too much trouble?” he asked.

“Not as much as they could,” you said, thinking about Davis. It certainly could be worse. 

“And would you say you receive the support you need?” he asked.

“Most of the time,” you replied.

He lent forward, resting his elbows on the desk. He smiled, and you felt yourself shiver a little. You didn’t like the gleam in his eye.

“You can be honest with me,” he said, “you can trust me.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding as if you understood what he was getting at.

“If Carol is being difficult we can fix it,” he said, “you don’t have to put on a brave face.”

“I’m not, it’s fine,” you said.

“See, no one would judge you as lesser if you admitted she was too much,” he said.

“She’s fine.”

“You know,” he lent forward conspiratorially, “you’ve done much better than we thought you would. We assumed you’d be out by the end of the week. But you’ve stuck it out, good on you. And it means you know her now. Know her weaknesses.” 

“I don’t think she has any weaknesses,” you said.

“But if she did, and you put in a complaint, we could get rid of her,” he said, “many people would think you’re a hero.”

“I don’t want to get rid of her,” you said.

“You don’t have to be strong for us,” he said.

“I’m not.” You stood up, “I’m not making a complaint about Carol because you don’t want to work with her anymore. She’s a wonderful teacher and she hasn’t made my life difficult. Now if you’ll excuse me, I should be getting back to class.”

You stormed out of the room, not giving him time to respond to you. You passed by Anita. She was looking at you expectantly, as if hoping you would tell her the gossip. You bypassed her, storming out into the hallway and back to the art room.

Carol was sitting in there, her legs up on the desk, marking pen in between her teeth, perusing an essay. You waved away one of the kids asking for your attention and strode over. You lent over her shoulder.

“I know we’re not talking right now, but just so you know, fucking Derek is trying to get rid of you,” you hissed.

“What?” she asked, turning to look at you.

You flinched back, finding yourself too close to her. She sneered at you.

“He asked me to make a complaint about you so they could fire you,” you said.

“Because of…” she trailed off, her eyes wandering down your body.

“No,” you snapped, “because you’re a massive bitch and a fucking pain to work with.”

You straightened up and turned on your heels, leaving her to mull over your words. At the end of the day you didn’t wait for her to approach you, leaving with the rest of the students in the rush for the door. You didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to think about it. 

Part of you thought maybe this had happened because Anita knew about what had been going on. You hadn’t told her about it ending, but she was smart enough to figure out something was going on. She wasn’t an idiot. If she had mentioned it to Derek…

You wouldn’t even let yourself entertain the idea. It didn’t matter what the logic behind asking you to complain was. You weren’t going to do it, even though your heart hurt every time you looked at Carol, and you were constantly on the brink of tears because of her. She didn’t deserve to lose her job because you were hurting. Even now, you wanted to protect her.

Things continued on in the strained manner between you and Carol. Things with Anita weren’t great either. You never told her what had happened, but she knew, and she was trying her best to comfort you, but in the back of your mind you couldn’t help but think she was Derek’s girl, that she would take his side in this complaint matter. To top it all off, Derek kept appearing whenever you were in the halls, catching your eye, giving you a conspiratorial smile, as if knowing you’d do what he wanted eventually. 

All in all you were glad when the semester ended and you had a couple of weeks off to get your emotions under control, and put yourself back together. You needed time away from Carol, and away from Derek, and away from Anita, to think over everything, to work it all out. You needed time to get your head straight, to figure out what it was you really wanted.

That was a lie. You knew what you wanted. You just weren’t sure you were strong enough to get it.


	19. Chapter 19

You’d been lying in bed for days now. Tomorrow was Christmas and it had led you to ignore all the calls from your family and friends. The only person you had talk to was Maddy and that’s only because she had a bad habit of letting herself into your apartment with Chinese takeout from the place you liked down the street. She’d tried to make you talk it over with her, but you’d forced her to watch movies with you instead. 

With the holiday so close you kept thinking back on the last one, on Thanksgiving. You’d also been avoiding your friends and family, but for a totally different reason. It had been right before the big blow up. You and Carol had spent most of the time fucking on every available surface. 

There’s been a small reprieve from the sex when you’d insisted on food. It wasn’t the spread you were used to at your parents’, but you’d taught her to make the best grilled cheese known to man. The two of you had talked about usual Thanksgiving traditions. It hurt just thinking about it. 

Now Maddy had left you, going home for the holidays. You were considering ordering a pizza, something easy that you didn’t have to cook. You couldn’t remember if the local place was open on Christmas Eve. You sighed and rolled over, burying your head in your pillow. 

You pulled yourself from the bed, stumbling when your foot got caught in the sheets. You caught yourself, stopping to steady yourself before shuffling into the kitchen. You pulled open the fridge, wrinkling your nose at how little was in there. You looked in one of the takeout containers left by Maddy. You sniffed it, trying to figure out if it was too old. It smelt fine so you grabbed a pair of chopsticks and began eating. 

You turned to the bench, getting ready to sit there. Your journal was already sitting there. You hadn’t even thought about it for weeks, hadn’t felt that itch to draw for so long. Your inspiration had dried up.

You picked it up. A post it note was on the front cover, the handwriting so familiar. You took a deep breath, trying to push the tears down again.

You flicked through he pages, seeing the familiar pictures. It started off so innocently, a few pictures of Maddy, a few of you, some just inanimate objects. As you got further in the pictures changed, Carol being represented over and over again. Sometimes it was just trying to capture the cold gleam in her eye, or the softness of her hair against her cheek. 

You stopped in the last sketch, half finished, rough and messy. It was Carol, looking over her shoulder at you, a small smile on her face. You could remember that look. She’d left you lying in the bed, going into the bathroom to shower. She was naked and sweaty and so beautiful. You’d felt so loved in that moment, so full of life. You’d wanted to capture it, to remember it forever. You’d been told to leave the next morning. 

You dropped the journal on the bench again, picking up the takeout container. You brushed away the tears on your cheeks, feeling stupid. You shouldn’t have let yourself get in so deep. You’d known it wasn’t a good idea. But it was so hard to say no to Carol. You weren’t sure if you would be able to do it now. 

You sat on your sofa, shovelling the food into your mouth to stop your throat from closing up, to stop the sobs escaping. You tried to keep it inside, not wanting to let it out anymore. You were done letting her make you feel so sad. You were done letting her control you.

You stood up again, throwing the empty takeout container into the already full bin. You wrinkled your nose at it, trying to remember the last time it had been emptied. You couldn’t. 

You glared at your journal and turned away. You strode into your room, coming to a decision. You haphazardly pulled something from your wardrobe. You pulled your pyjamas off and flung on the first thing your hand touched. 

You grabbed your keys and the journal, storming out of your apartment. All you could think about was getting rid of the stupid thing. You didn’t want it in your apartment, in your possession, able to make you feel this way. It shouldn’t be your problem.

You tore the post it note from the front, letting it flutter to the ground outside your car. You got in, flinging the journal into the passenger seat. It wasn’t until you got halfway to your destination you realised you’d forgotten shoes and that you probably looked a mess with tangled hair. 

You sighed, shaking your head. You looked over at the people in the next car, watching the children in the back fight. You were glad it wasn’t you. There was enough noise in your head without the screaming of children to get in the way. 

You pulled up at the familiar house, putting the car in park. Butterflies exploded in your stomach and for the first time that day you began to think you have made a mistake. You sat a moment, looking at the front door. It felt as if it were staring at you. You gulped.

You tried to steel yourself, picking up the journal, turning it over in your hands. The worn leather was comforting against your skin, giving you strength to push the door open. You slammed it closed, shivering in the cold air. You’d also forgotten a coat. 

You ran up to the front door, hoping to get this over and done with so you could get back into the warmth of your car. You hammered on the door, shifting from foot to foot to try and keep the feeling in your toes. True to form, it took a frustratingly long time for the door to open.

“What do you want?” Carol snapped, then realised who she was talking to, “oh.”

“Do you have a pen?” you asked.

She sneered at you but reached behind her to grab the pen that sat on the sideboard you knew was there. You took it from her fingers, making sure not to touch her. You opened the journal and scribbled something on the back page. You handed her the pen and the journal.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” she asked, looking at the book in her hands.

“Whatever you want,” you said and turned on your heels to walk back to your car. You got to the end of the path before she stopped you.

“What the fuck is this?” she shouted at you.

“Your Christmas present,” you said, “Merry Christmas, Carol.”

You slammed your car door and pulled off from the curve. You didn’t look back, didn’t want to know what she’d done. 

You drove around for a while, not wanting to go back to the silence of your home. It would be too much, give you too much quiet to hear the thoughts in the back of your head. You had to wonder what she was making of it all. You knew she’d looked through the book, but not since you’d begun your affair. Things had changed since then. 

You hoped Maddy had been right. You hoped you hadn’t made it worse. But Maddy had told you that you should show her the pictures. And Maddy was right more often than you liked to admit. So you had. And now all you could do was wait.


	20. Chapter 20

You didn’t know what to expect walking into school the Monday after New Years. You hadn’t heard from Carol, hadn’t bothered to go running back to demand the journal be returned to you. You’d kept yourself busy, letting Maddy drag you to all kinds of parties once she was back from her parents. You’d caught up with a few friends you’d let slip by the wayside during the drama of your new job. It had been surprisingly nice. 

Your stomach was roiling as you walked into the art room. Carol wasn’t there which wasn’t a good sign. It was never good being the first one in in the morning. You slid onto a stool, looking out the window to the early morning light. You didn’t want to seem as if you were waiting for her, not even wanting to know when she entered the room.

The room had become so familiar to you. The wide open windows, the carved initials in the wood throughout the room, the faint smell of paint and clay. If, as you suspected, this whole thing went to shit, you’d miss this room. You ran your fingers over the grooves in the table, trying to calm you breathing. It wouldn’t do to have a full scale panic attack before Carol even entered the room. 

Your journal slammed on the table in front of you. You jumped, flinching back from the woman standing in front of you. You dragged your eyes up from the offending book to the woman standing before you. Her eyes were hard and you felt your breathing stop.

“What. The fuck. Am I meant. To do with that?” she demanded through gritted teeth.

You gaped at her, like a gormless goldfish. She was glaring at you but you had no answer for her, no thought in your head. Why could you never think properly in front of her?

“You fucking complain about me to Derek and then you give me this?” she said, her voice going low. You felt your stomach clench. 

“I didn’t complain to Derek,” you said.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” she snapped.

“I didn’t make the complaint to Derek,” you said, “he wanted me to but I said no.”

She opened her mouth but nothing came out. You slid your journal towards you but her hand shot out and snatched it before you could look in it. You looked back up at her.

“That still doesn’t answer what the fuck this is,” she slammed it onto the table again.

“I thought it was pretty self explanatory,” you said, shrugging at her.

She flipped through the pages, looking at your art, her brow furrowing. She stopped close to the end, on what you assumed was the last page. She stared at it for too long to be comfortable. You couldn’t drag your eyes away from her, watching as her jaw clenched and unclenched. 

“What the fuck is this?” she demanded, turning it so you could see what she was looking at.

Staring back at you was your own scrawled handwriting. You tried not to blush at the words, remembering in a haze writing them on her porch. You’d been in such a rush you hadn’t had time to craft something better than the ‘I’ve begun falling for you’ that you’d written on the page beside the half finished sketch. Looking back, you would have tried for something a little better, a little more poetic, but you thought it got the point across well enough.

“I don’t know where the confusion is,” you said, looking up at her.

“What did you not understand about this being done?” she snapped.

“I just thought you should know,” you said, shrugging again.

She slammed it back on the table, leaning over to bring her face closer to yours. She was growling, curling her upper lip, her eyes flashing dangerously at you. You didn’t back down despite feeling as if you may throw up.

“Get up,” she hissed.

Your stool scraped back with a squeal and you had to work hard not to wince. She grabbed you, pulling you towards her. You tried not to flinch back, worried you really had made a mistake, that Maddy couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” she demanded.

“No one, Carol,” you sighed, “no one at all.”

She grabbed your face, forcing you look at her. You tried to breath normally, feeling overwhelmed by how close she was. It had been so long you’d forgotten how intoxicating it could be. 

She lent down, capturing your lips with hers. You gasped, her tongue invading your mouth, her fingers tightening on your chin. You reached out, grabbing her waist, pushing your body against hers.

She pushed you away from her, her eyes darting over your face. She pulled you in for another kiss then pushed you away again. You blinked at her, not sure what she was thinking. 

“We do this on my terms,” she said.

“Don’t we always,” you said rolling your eyes,” but what is this?”

She sneered at you, walking away. You hesitantly took your seat again, watching her settle herself behind her desk. She didn’t bother explaining anything to you, kicking her legs up onto her desk, leaning back in her chair. You looked down to your journal, running your thumb over the front cover.

You flipped it open, back to the page with your writing. You noticed a few marks on the other page bleeding through, wondering what it was. You hadn’t left anything else in the book. You flipped the page to find a line drawing of yourself looking back up at you.

You were obviously asleep, your hair spilling over the pillow. You traced over it, not used to seeing yourself rendered with such reverence. You hadn’t realised exactly how talented Carol was. She’d kept all her work away from you, keeping you on the outskirts of her life. 

You looked up at her to find her watching you. You gave her a soft smile, a blush rising on your cheeks. She winked and you couldn’t help the blush rise in your cheeks.

A group of students walked past talking loudly. You slammed the book closed, leaning down to shove it in your bag. When you popped up Davis was standing in front of you, smiling. You gave him a nod and stood up.

“Morning,” you said, stepping past him.

“Did you have a good break, Miss Beckett?” he asked, taking your space at the bench.

“It was alright,” you said nodding.

“I went to a cabin with my family and we went ice fishing,” he said, “but then the ice cracked and my cousin almost fell in and died.”

“What absolute shit are you talking about?” Carol snapped.

He flushed and looked down at his twisting hands. You rolled your eyes and walked away, leaving him to deal with whatever it was Carol made him feel. You knew how it could be when Carol snapped, but the kid needed to toughen up a little if he was going to survive until the end of the year. 

As you passed Carol she handed you a bit of paper. You looked down at it, trying to stifle a laugh at the caricature she’d drawn of Davis. You scrunched it up and threw it in the bin, not wanting him to see it. She smirked and you had to excuse yourself to the storeroom to make sure Davis didn’t hear you laughing.

It was nice to have things kind of back to normal. Well, as normal as they get with Carol.


	21. Chapter 21

“Why are you making me do this?” Carol snapped, looking over her shoulder to the entrance.

“It’s the movies,” you said, “people come here all the time.”

“Why do we have to?” she asked.

“I’m taking you on a date or have you never been on one before?” you said, rolling your eyes.

She shifted, glancing over her shoulder again. You looked up at her, trying to figure out what was wrong with her. 

“Oh my god,” you said, “you haven’t, have you?”

She stiffened, taking a step away from you. Her eyes hardened and she curled her upper lip. You laughed, not able to keep it in. She glared at you and walked out of line. You sighed, following her, already getting ready to run damage control. This relationship felt more like a firefighter’s position, going along behind the inferno that was Carol Denning. Sometimes you had to wonder why you bothered.

“Look, don’t worry about it,” you said, “plenty of people never go on dates.”

“I’m going home,” she snapped. 

She stormed out of the cinema, pushing past people in a bid to get out as quickly as possible. You apologised to the disgruntled people as you followed behind her, already over this argument.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” you said, grabbing her arm, “you can’t walk out of your first proper date.”

“This isn’t a date,” she hissed, spinning to turn to you.

“Well, it was until you walked out,” you said, trying so hard not to roll your eyes at the melodramatics.

She began walking again. You couldn’t stop the eye roll this time. You hurried to catch up. She ignored you as you fell into step beside her. You threaded your fingers through hers, stepping closer. She flung your hand away, continuing on, not bothering to look at you.

You sighed, not bothering to try again. She was the most stubborn person you’d ever met. You ignored the people you were passing on the street, despite the cat calls that you could hear. You always ignored them, not wanting to engage with those men. Carol responded a little differently.

You watched her turn to the guys across the road, currently shouting at the two of you. You grabbed her before she could do anything, turning her back towards you. You reached up, grasping her face in both your hands, and kissed her hard enough to stifle any insults she was going to shout back at them.

Her hand automatically wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. You wrapped your arms around her neck, ignoring the increased wolf whistling from the men across the street. You drew away, pulling her further along the street. 

“Ignore them,” you hissed as the shouting got rowdier.

“Assholes,” she shouted over her shoulder at them.

You dragged her back to you car. Her jaw was clenching and her eyes were hard. You lent back against the door, not letting her in. She growled, grabbing your arm. You grabbed her wrist, pulling her off you. You tried to smile at her but she sneered at you.

“I don’t know why you’re in such a mood but I’ve tried to do something nice and I don’t appreciate you acting this way,” you said.

“Bully for you,” she snapped, “but fuck off.”

“You can walk home,” you said, righting yourself. 

You unlocked the car and turned to get inside. A hand on your shoulder stopped you. You turned, not expecting an apology. She was glaring at but she pressed you back against the door, caging you in. You bit your lip, looking up at her. 

She lent forward, capturing your lips with hers. You curled your arm around her neck, pressing your body against hers. She was biting on your bottom lip, her hand sliding down your body, grasping your hip hard enough to bruise. You thrust one of your hands into her hair, tugging on the strands, wanting her closer.

Her lips were insistent, and your knees began to buckle. You couldn’t get enough breath, you were burning up, you wanted to get her home, or at least to a less public street. She tugged on your bottom lip and you gasped, needing her closer.

She trailed her lips down your neck, biting down on your pulse point. Your head fell back, hitting the car. You couldn’t get enough breath in your lungs, your legs turning to jelly. You opened your eyes and immediately went cold.

A familiar face was looking back at you, eyes wide and dismay written all over his face. That fucking little shit Davis was on the fucking sidewalk. You put your hand on Carol’s shoulder, not sure if you should push her away or keep her from seeing. 

The man, obviously his father, was tutting and shaking his head at the two of you. He grabbed Davis’ shoulder, steering him away from you. You could feel your heart clench, your head going dizzy. You could still feel Carol sucking on your neck, her teeth grazing over your skin, but it was as if you were experiencing it from very far away. You weren’t sure you were actually still in your own body. 

You pushed her away for a moment. She looked at you, her eyes dark, her lips swollen. She lent forward to kiss you again but you held your hand up to stop her. You slid out from between her and the car. You walked around the car, opening your door. You watched her face harden, flinging open the door to slide in beside you.

You started the engine. Her hand squeezed your thigh, creeping up under your dress. You pulled out onto the road. All you could think about was getting home, but this time not to fall into bed with Carol. All you wanted was to get out of the public, leaving the possibility if seeing Davis again behind you. The damage was already done. 

Her hand was still climbing up your thigh, brushing over your centre with her long fingers. You grabbed her wrist, flinging her hand back into her lap. Her jaw clenched.

“Not good enough for you anymore?” she snapped.

“It’s not that,” you said, your voice small.

“Then what?” she asked, “you dragged me on this fucking date.”

“I never heard an apology for how you treated me tonight,” you snapped.

“Are you still on this fucking thing?” she snarled, “didn’t know you were such a sensitive little cunt.”

“All I’m asking for is a little fucking respect,” you hissed.

“So you don’t want my fingers in your cunt?” she asked.

“Not right now,” you snapped.

You parked in front of her house. The silence overtook the two of you, settling in the anger left between you. You sighed and bit your lip, looking down at your wringing hands in your laps. She growled, looking out her window.

“I still want an apology,” you said, knowing you had to tell her, “but fucking Davis saw us.”

“What?” Her voice was cold, hard, like ice. You felt your heart trip over itself.

“He was on the sidewalk while we were there. He saw us, Carol. Fucking Davis saw us.”

She growled, pushing the door open. She slammed it closed and you winced. You hesitantly followed her into the house. The door was standing open by the time you got there. You closed it behind you, scared what the reaction awaiting you might be.

She was in the kitchen, fuming. You pushed her out of the way, making tea for the two of you. She tried to slam the mug out of your hands. You dodged her hand, putting them down on the counter.

“Look, I know this is a problem,” you began to say.

“No fucking way,” she sneered.

“But we don’t know how this is going to pan out,” you finished.

“We’re going to be fucking fired,” she snapped.

“For being in a relationship?” you asked, raising your eyebrows at her.

“If that little shit tells anyone, he’s dead,” she hissed and swept from the room.

You lent back against the counter, ignoring the boiling water. Date night had ended fucking terribly. You weren’t sure it would be worth another try. You weren’t sure turning up to school on Monday was worth it either.


	22. Chapter 22

You could hear the kids whispering about you. There was no better place for a rumour to spread like wildfire than a school. You could feel the stares following you through the halls and hear your name over and over again. Carol had been on edge all day, snapping at children, and forcing the students to work in silence. She’d confiscated more than a few notes. 

You’d been trying to ignore it all. You were surprised how many kids had listened to Davis. You hadn’t thought people would believe Davis. He was hardly popular. You could only assume it was the nature of the news that made it interesting it enough to spread.

Carol had been avoiding being on the same side of the room as you. It was as if she was trying to prove to the world that she was indifferent towards you. You couldn’t figure out how it was helping. It wasn’t as if she had been kind to you before, or given you preferential treatment. If anything, in class she’d been just as much of a bitch to you as she was to everyone else. 

All morning you kept catching her eye and she’d immediately look away with a curl of the upper lip and a harden gaze. She was acting as if just acknowledging your existence wold confirm all the rumours. It was beginning to get on your nerves.

You had to wait all morning to have even a short conversation with her. She kept you away from her, going on more trips to see administration in the few hours before lunch than you’d seen her take the entire time you’d been working there. You tried to pretend it wasn’t due to the whispers in the hall this morning, but it was hard to believe that. 

You waited for the last person to leave the class, closing the door behind them. You lent back against it, stopping Carol from leaving. She glared at you from her place beside the chalkboard.

“Well, that was an interesting morning,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Fucking Davis,” she hissed.

“Yes, he did cause this,” you said, “did you see him this morning? Couldn’t even look at me.”

“I’m going to end him,” she snapped.

“Why?” you asked, “why is it so bad that they know?”

“They can’t know,” she snapped. 

“But why?” you asked, shrugging away from the door.

“You are mine,” she said, “I won’t share you with them.”

“Or, you could let them know I’m yours,” you said, “so then you never have to be worried about sharing me.”

You turned, leaving her to her thoughts. You ignored the way the students were looking at you, ignoring the whispering and the pointing. You pushed your way into the staffroom. 

Anita was grinning at you when you sat down across from her. You rolled your eyes, taking a gulp from your mug of coffee. She handed you half of her sandwich and you took a bite from it. 

“Been hearing some interesting things in the halls,” she said.

“I know,” you agreed, “who knew Stacy got pregnant at Gavin’s party?”

She laughed but slid into the seat beside you. She took the sandwich out of your hands, taking her own bite from it. 

“What are you going to do?” she asked, more seriously.

“Not much we can do.” You shrugged, “she’s angry about it though.”

“She’s angry about everything,” she said, handing you the sandwich back.

You ate in silence, not sure there was anything else you could say about it. You finished your coffee in silence and passed your yoghurt to Anita. She took it from you with a nod of thanks. 

Derek slammed into the room, his face red and his teeth bared. He saw you, stopping in the middle of the room.

“You,” she shouted, pointing at you.

You looked at Anita who shifted away from you almost imperceptibly. You stood, not sure if you were about to shouted at, fired, or would have to make a run for it. You edged past the sofa.

“You fucking bitch,” he shouted, “you absolute twat.”

“What?” you asked.

“You have destroyed the sanctity of this school,” he yelled, “you’re going to destroy us.”

“What have I done?” you asked.

“Carol,” he shouted.

You rolled your eyes and walked past him. He turned with you and you realised you could see the vein in his forehead. Spittle was flecking at the corners of his mouth. You turned away from him, pushing your way out of the staffroom. Students were standing outside, staring at the door as if it was about to bite. 

Carol was standing there too, looking as if she were about to murder someone, probably Derek. She grabbed you by the face and kissed you. You could hear the hall fall silent and the staff room door slam open again. So much was going on and you weren’t sure you understood it.

“Of fucking course,” Derek shouted. You jumped. Carol wrapped her arm protectively around your waist, putting herself between you and Derek.

“You can’t swear in front of the students,” Carol said, “Are you having a breakdown?”

You could hear the students tittering. You would have joined in, knowing Carol always swore in front of students, but Derek was genuinely scaring you now.

“You’ve gone too far this time Carol,” he snapped, “I won’t have this kind of thing in my school.”

“Is this specifically about me, or just plain old homophobia?” she asked. She sounded amused. You hated it.

“You are abrasive, border line abusive, and difficult to work with,” he said.

“But she’s a good teacher,” you said, stepping up beside her.

“She’s a pain in the ass,” he snapped.

“Sure, but she gets the job done,” you said,

She gave you an eye roll for that but her hand was still resting on your waist so you found it hard to care. Derek threw his hands up in defeat.

“Either you go or I do,” he said.

“Bye then,” you said, turning away. 

Carol followed you back down the hall. You passed all the students who’d been whispering about you. Now, they were dead silent, watching you pass as if you were a funeral procession. She grabbed your arm, guiding you into the art room again.

“What did you do to him to push him off the edge?” you asked, turning towards her.

“I asked for a kiln,” she said.

You couldn’t stop the giggles from bubbling up. She was smiling at you. You had to lean against one of the benches, having trouble breathing between the laughs. Carol walked past you, taking her usual place at her table, legs kicked up, paper in hand. 

“He’s actually quit,” Anita said, rushing into the room.

“Good,” Carol said.

“You can be so callous sometimes,” Anita said, but she was smiling.

“Get out of here,” Carol said, flicking her hand at the blonde woman.

She rolled her eyes at you but left without complaining, miming for you to call her later. You wandered over to Carol, the laughing now abated. You sat on the corner of her desk and she looked up at you with a small smile.

“What made you change your mind?” you asked.

“About what?” she asked.

“Being public.” You shrugged.

“He was shouting at you,” she said with a shrug, “he needed to know he can’t mess with you. That you’re mine.”

You lent forward, kissing her softly. She kissed back until she heard the hushed whispers of students from the doorway. You looked over, smiling at the small gang of girls clustered in the doorway. You waved them in, getting up off the desk. 

“Good job, Miss Beckett,” one of them said to you.

“Thank,” you replied, not really sure what you were being thanked for but you’d take it.

You waited at the back of the room, smiling when you caught Carol’s eye. She rolled her eyes but you could see her smiling too. You couldn’t help the surge of love course through your body. She was all you wanted and you had her. You’d never been so lucky and you never would be again. 

You loved Carol Denning, and despite her unwillingness to say it, you knew she loved you too. And that was enough.


End file.
